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CADMUS AND THE DRAGON (page 297 ) 










RIVERSIDE BOOKSHElF^^ 

A WONDER-BOOK 

AND 

TANGLEWOOD TALES 

BY 

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

GUSTAF TENGGREN 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

ftfotrsfoe Cam&rfrge 

1923 





COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


IcU&ctsfltt $ceg* 
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A. 


OCT 22 '23 


©C1A760466 



CONTENTS. 


-•- 

A WONDER-BOOK FOR GIRLS AND BOYS. 


Introductory Note.. 

Preface .. . 

THE GORGON’S HEAD. 

Tanglewood Porch. — Introductory to u The Gorgon’s 

Head”. . 

The Gorgon’s Head.21 

Tanglewood Porch. — After the Story .... 49 

THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 

Shadow Brook. — Introductory to “ The Golden Touch ”. 51 

The Golden Touch.55 

Shadow Brook. — After the Story.75 

THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 

Tanglewood Play-Room. — Introductory to “ The Paradise 

of Children ”.78 

The Paradise of Children.82 

Tanglewood Play-Room. — After the Story . . . 102 

THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 

Tanglewood Fireside. — Introductory to “ The Three 

Golden Apples ”.. • .104 

The Three Golden Apples. 110 

Tanglewood Fireside. — After the Story . . . 134 

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 


The Hill-Side.— Introductory to “The Miraculous Pitcher” 137 
The Miraculous Pitcher ...... 140 

The Hill-Side. —After the Story . . , . *163 
























CONTENTS 

PAGB 

THE CHIM2ERA. 

Bald-Summit. — Introductory to “ The Chimeera ” . .165 

The Chimera.168 

Bald-Summit. — After the Story.195 

TANGLEWOOD TALES. 

The Wayside. — Introductory.205 

The Minotaur.213 

The Pygmies .247 

The Dragon’s Teeth .271 

Circe’s Palace .306 

The Pomegranate Seeds.341 

The Golden Eleece .379 


N; 


I 










ILLUSTRATIONS 


Cadmus and the Dragon Frontispiece 

Perseus and the Helmet of Invisibility 38 

Bellerophon at the Fountain of Pirene 168 

Jason and the Armed Men 414 





















A WONDER-BOOK 


FOR GIRLS AND BOYS 


r 



i 












































‘ 

■ • 













THE WONDER-BOOK. 

Even from the data to be obtained by a perusal oi 
his works, the general reader will be likely to infer 
that Hawthorne took a vital interest in child-life ; and 
in his published Note-Books are found many brief 
memoranda which indicate his disposition to write foi 
children. After he married and had begun to rear 
a family of his own, this interest of his in the ear¬ 
liest developments of mind and character became, nat¬ 
urally, much more active. He was accustomed to ob¬ 
serve his children very closely. There are private 
manuscripts still extant, which present exact records 
of what his young son and elder daughter said or 
did, from hour to hour ; the father seating himself in 
their play-room and patiently noting all that passed. 

To this habit of watchful and sympathetic scrutiny 
we may attribute in part the remarkable felicity, the 
fortunate ease of adaptation to the immature under¬ 
standing, and the skilful appeal to fresh imaginations*, 
which characterize his stories for the young. Natural 
tact and insight prompted, faithful study from the real 
assisted, these productions. 

While still living at Lenox, and soon after publish¬ 
ing “ The House of the Seven Gables,” he sketched as 
follows, in a letter to Mr. James T. Fields, May 28, 
















10 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

1851, Ms plan for the work which this note accom 
panies : — 

“ I mean to write, within six weeks or two months 
next ensuing, a book of stories made up of classical 
myths. The subjects are : The Story of Midas, with 
his Golden Touch, Pandora’s Box, The Adventure of 
Hercules in quest of the Golden Apples, Bellerophon 
and the Chimsera, Baucis and PMlemon, Perseus and 
Medusa; these, I think, will be enough to make up a 
volume. As a framework, I shall have a young cob 
lege-student telling these stories to his cousins and 
brothers and sisters, during his vacations, sometimes 
at the fireside, sometimes in the woods and dells. Un¬ 
less I greatly mistake, these old fictions will work up 
admirably for the purpose ; and I shall aim at substi¬ 
tuting a tone in some degree Gothic or romantic, or 
any such tone as may best please myself, instead of 
the classic coldness which is as repellant as the touch 
of marble.” 

With such precision as to time did he carry out this 
scheme, that on the 15th of July he wrote the Preface 
to the completed volume. It was unusual, however, 
for him to work with such rapidity, or indeed to write 
at all in the summer season; and this exertion, com- 
ing so soon after his work upon the romance, may 
have had something to do with increasing a languor 
which he had already begun to feel, and inducing Mm 
to remove from Lenox in the autumn. While he re¬ 
mained in Berkshire he had more or less literary com¬ 
panionship, wMch is alluded to in the Note-Books and 
also in the closing chapter of the “Wonder-Book,” 
where he likewise refers thus to himself : — 

“ ‘ Have we not an author for our next neighbor ? ’ 
&sked Primrose. 4 That silent man, who lives in the 


INTRODUCTORY NOTE 


11 


old red house near Tanglewood Avenue, and whom we 
sometimes meet, with two children at his side, in the 
woods or at the lake. I think I have heard of his hav¬ 
ing written a poem, or a romance, or an arithmetic, or 
a school-history, or something of that kind.’ ” 

The manuscript of the “ Wonder-Book ” is the only 
one of Hawthorne’s completed books which, in its 
original form, is owned by any member of his family. 
The book was written on thin blue paper of rather 
large size, and on both sides of the pages. Scarcely a 
correction or an erasure occurs, from the beginning to 
the end; and wherever an alteration was made, the 
after-thought was evidently so swift that the author 
did not stop to blot, for the word first written is merely 
smeared into illegibility and another substituted for it. 
It appears to be certain that, although Hawthorne 
meditated long over what he intended to do and came 
rather slowly to the point of publication, yet when the 
actual task of writing was begun it proceeded rapidly 
and with very little correction ; and in most cases 
probably very little re-drafting was done. His private 
correspondence exhibits the same easy flow of composi¬ 
tion, in sentences of notable finish; offering a marked 
contrast, for example, to the habit of the historian 
Motley, who even in his letters expunged words on 
every page. 

The “Wonder-Book” proved to be a financial as 
well as literary success, and was presently translated 
and published in Germany. 


G. P.L. 






f 


I 


% 



























% 















/ 


f 











The author has long been of opinion that many of 
the classical myths were capable of being rendered 
into very capital reading for children. In the little 
volume here offered to the public, he has worked up 
half a dozen of them, with this end in view. A great 
freedom of treatment was necessary to his plan ; but 
it will be observed by every one who attempts to ren¬ 
der these legends malleable in his intellectual furnace, 
that they are marvellously independent of all tempo¬ 
rary modes and circumstances. They remain essen¬ 
tially the same, after changes that would affect the 
identity of almost anything else. 

He does not, therefore, plead guilty to a sacrilege, 
in having sometimes shaped anew, as his fancy dic¬ 
tated, the forms that have been hallowed by an antiq¬ 
uity of two or three thousand years. No epoch of time 
can claim a copyright in these immortal fables. They 
seem never to have been made; and certainly, so long 
as man exists, they can never perish ; but, by their in¬ 
destructibility itself, they are legitimate subjects for 
every age to clothe with its own garniture of manners 
and sentiment, and to imbue with its own morality. 
In the present version they may have lost much of 
their classical aspect (or, at all events, the author has 
not been careful to preserve it), and have, perhaps, 
assumed a Gothic or romantic guise. 















14 


PREFACE 


In performing this pleasant task, — for it has been 
really a task fit for hot weather, and one of the most 
agreeable, of a literary kind, which he ever undertook, 
— the author has not always thought it necessary to 
write downward, in order to meet the comprehension 
of children. He has generally suffered the theme to 
soar, whenever such was its tendency, and when he 
himself was buoyant enough to follow without an ef¬ 
fort. Children possess an unestimated sensibility to 
whatever is deep or high, in imagination or feeling, so 
long as it is simple, likewise. It is only the artificial 
and the complex that bewilder them. 

Lenox, July 15, 1851. 



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 


TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 

INTRODUCTORY TO “THE GORGON’S HEAD.” 

Beneath the porch of the country-seat called Tan- 
glewood, one fine autumnal morning, was assembled 
a merry party of little folks, with a tall youth in the 
midst of them. They had planned a nutting expedi¬ 
tion, and were impatiently waiting for the mists to roll 
up the hill-slopes, and for the sun to pour the warmth 
of the Indian summer over the fields and pastures, and 
into the nooks of the many-colored woods. There was 
a prospect of as fine a day as ever gladdened the as¬ 
pect of this beautiful and comfortable world. As yet, 
however, the morning mist filled up the whole length 
and breadth of the valley, above which, on a gently 
sloping eminence, the mansion stood. 

This body of white vapor extended to within less 
than a hundred yards of the house. It completely hid 
[everything beyond that distance, except a few ruddy 
i or yellow tree-tops, which here and there emerged, and 
were glorified by the early sunshine, as was likewise 
the broad surface of the mist. Four or five miles off 
to the southward rose the summit of Monument Moun¬ 
tain, and seemed to be floating on a cloud. Some fi£ 
















16 TANGLEWOOD PORCH 

teen miles farther away, in the same direction, ap* 
peared the loftier Dome of Taconic, looking blue and 
indistinct, and hardly so substantial as the vapory sea 
that almost rolled over it. The nearer hills, which 
bordered the valley, were half submerged, and were 
specked with little cloud-wreaths all the way to their 
tops. On the whole, there was so much cloud, and so 
little solid earth, that it had the effect of a vision. 

The children above-mentioned, being as full of life 
as they could hold, kept overflowing from the porch of 
Tanglewood, and scampering along the gravel-walk, oi 
rushing across the dewy herbage of the lawn. I can 
hardly tell how many of these small people there were ; 
not less then nine or ten, however, nor more than a 
dozen, of all sorts, sizes, and ages, whether girls or 
boys. They were brothers, sisters, and cousins, to¬ 
gether with a few of their young acquaintances, who 
had been invited by Mr. and Mrs. Pringle to spend 
some of this delightful weather with their own chil¬ 
dren, at Tanglewood. I am afraid to tell you their 
names, or even to give them any names which other 
children have ever been called by; because, to my cer¬ 
tain knowledge, authors sometimes get themselves into 
great trouble by accidentally giving the names of real 
persons to the characters in their books. For this rea 
son, I mean to call them Primrose, Periwinkle, Sweet 
Fern, Dandelion, Blue Eye, Clover, Huckleberry, Cow¬ 
slip, Squash-Blossom, Milkweed, Plantain, and Butter¬ 
cup ; although, to be sure, such titles might better 
suit a group of fairies than a company of earthly chil¬ 
dren. 

It is not to be supposed that these little folks were 
to be permitted by their careful fathers and mothers, 
uncles, aunts, or grandparents, to stray abroad into 


TANGLEWOOD PORCH 17 

the woods and fields, without the guardianship of some 
particularly grave and elderly person. Oh no, indeed! 
In the first sentence of my book, you will recollect that 
I spoke of a tall youth, standing in the midst of the 
children. His name— (and I shall let you know his 
real name, because he considers it a great honor to 
have told the stories that are here to be printed) — 
his name was Eustace Bright. He was a student at 
Williams College, and had reached, I think, at this 
period, the venerable age of eighteen years ; so that 
he felt quite like a grandfather towards Periwinkle, 
Dandelion, Huckleberry, Squash-Blossom, Milkweed, 
and the rest, who were only half or a third as vener¬ 
able as he. A trouble in his eyesight (such as many 
students think it necessary to have, nowadays, in order 
to prove their diligence at their books) had kept him 
from college a week or two after the beginning of the 
term. But, for my part, I have seldom met with a 
pair of eyes that looked as if they could see farther or 
better than those of Eustace Bright. 

This learned student was slender, and rather pale, 
as all Yankee students are ; but yet of a healthy as¬ 
pect, and as light and active as if he had wings to his 
shoes. By the by, being much addicted to wading 
through streamlets and across meadows, he had put on 
cowhide boots for the expedition. He wore a linen 
blouse, a cloth cap, and a pair of green spectacles, 
which he had assumed, probably, less for the preserva¬ 
tion of his eyes than for the dignity that they imparted 
to his countenance. In either case, however, he might 
as well have let them alone; for Huckleberry, a mis¬ 
chievous little elf, crept behind Eustace as he sat on 
the steps of the porch, snatched the spectacles from his 
nose, and clapped them on her own; and as the stu- 

VOL. IV. 2 


18 TANGLEWOOD PORCH 

dent forgot to take them back, they fell off into the 
grass, and lay there till the next spring. 

Now, Eustace Bright, you must know, had won great 
fame among the children, as a narrator of wonderful 
stories; and though he sometimes pretended to be an¬ 
noyed, when they teased him for more, and more, and 
always for more, yet I really doubt whether he liked 
anything quite so well as to tell them. You might 
have seen his eyes twinkle, therefore, when Clover, 
Sweet Fern, Cowslip, Buttercup, and most of their 
playmates, besought him to relate one of his stories, 
while they were waiting for the mist to clear up. 

“ Yes, Cousin Eustace,” said Primrose, who was a 
bright girl of twelve, with laughing eyes, and a nose 
that turned up a little, “ the morning is certainly the 
best time for the stories with which you so often tire 
out our patience. We shall be in less danger of hurt¬ 
ing your feelings, by falling asleep at the most in¬ 
teresting points, — as little Cowslip and I did last 
night! ” 

“ Naughty Primrose,” cried Cowslip, a child of six 
years old ; “I did not fall asleep, and I only shut my 
eyes, so as to see a picture of what Cousin Eustace was 
telling about. His stories are good to hear at night, 
because we can dream about them asleep ; and good in 
the morning, too, because then we can dream about 
them awake. So I hope he will tell us one this very 
minute.” 

“Thank you, my little Cowslip,” said Eustace; 
“ certainly you shall have the best story I can think 
of, if it were only for defending me so well from that 
naughty Primrose. But, children, I have already told 
you so many fairy tales, that I doubt whether there is 
a single one which you have not heard at least twice 


TANGLEWOOD PORCH 19 

over. I am afraid you will fall asleep in reality, if I 
repeat any of them again.” 

“ No, no, no ! ” cried Blue Eye, Periwinkle, Plan¬ 
tain, and half a dozen others. “ We like a story all 
the better for having heard it two or three times be¬ 
fore.” 

And it is a truth, as regards children, that a story 
seems often to deepen its mark in their interest, not 
merely by two or three, but by numberless repetitions. 
But Eustace Bright, in the exuberance of his re¬ 
sources, scorned to avail himself of an advantage 
which an older story-teller would have been glad to 
grasp at. 

“It would be a great pity,” said he, “ if a man of 
my learning (to say nothing of original fancy) could 
not find a new story every day, year in and year out, 
for children such as you. I will tell you one of the 
nursery tales that were made for the amusement of 
our great old grandmother, the Earth, when she was a 
child in frock and pinafore. There are a hundred 
such ; and it is a wonder to me that they have not 
long ago been put into picture-books for little girls 
and boys. But, instead of that, old gray-bearded 
grandsires pore over them in musty volumes of Greek, 
and puzzle themselves with trying to find out when, 
and how, and for what they were made.” 

“ Well, well, well, well, Cousin Eustace ! ” cried all 
the children at once; “ talk no more about your sto¬ 
ries, but begin.” 

“ Sit down, then, every soul of you,” said Eustace 
Bright, “ and be all as still as so many mice. At the 
slightest interruption, whether from great, naughty 
Primrose, little Dandelion, or any other, I shall bite 
the story short off between my teeth, and swallow the 


20 TANGLEWOOD PORCH 

untold part. But, in the first place, do any of you 
know what a Gorgon is ? ” 

“ I do,” said Primrose. 

“ Then hold your tongue! ” rejoined Eustace, who 
had rather she would have known nothing about the 
matter. “ Hold all your tongues, and I shall tell you 
a sweet pretty story of a Gorgon’s head.” 

And so he did, as you may begin to read on the 
next page. Working up his sophomorical erudition 
with a good deal of tact, and incurring great obliga¬ 
tions to Professor Anthon, he, nevertheless, disre¬ 
garded all classical authorities, whenever the vagrant 
audacity of his imagination impelled him to do so. 



Perseus was the son of Danae, who was the 
daughter of a king. And when Perseus was a very- 
little boy, some wicked people put his mother and 
himself into a chest, and set them afloat upon the sea. 
The wind blew freshly, and drove the chest away from 
the shore, and the uneasy billows, tossed it up and 
down; while Danae clasped her child closely to her 
bosom, and dreaded that some big wave would dash 
its foamy crest over them both. The chest sailed on, 
however, and neither sank nor was upset; until, when 
night was coming, it floated so near an island that it 
got entangled in a fisherman’s nets, and was drawn 
out high and dry upon the sand. The island was 
called Seriphus, and it was reigned over by King 
Polydectes, who happened to be the fisherman’s 
brother. 

This fisherman, I am glad to tell you, was an ex¬ 
ceedingly humane and upright man. He showed great 
kindness to Danae and her little boy; and continued 
to befriend them, until Perseus had grown to be a 
handsome youth, very strong and active, and skilful 
in the use of arms. Long before this time, King 
Polydectes had seen the two strangers — the mother 
and her child — who had come to his dominions in a 
floating chest. As he was not good and kind, like his 
brother the fisherman, but extremely wicked, he re¬ 
solved to send Perseus on a dangerous enterprise, in 
which he would probably be killed, and then to do 













22 THE GORGON’S HEAD 

some great mischief to Danae herself. So this bad- 
hearted king spent a long while in considering what 
was the most dangerous thing that a young man could 
possibly undertake to perform. At last, having hit 
upon an enterprise that promised to turn out as fa¬ 
tally as he desired, he sent for the youthful Perseus. 

The young man came to the palace, and found the 
king sitting upon his throne. 

“ Perseus,” said King Polydectes, smiling craftily 
upon him, “you are grown up a fine young man. You 
and your good mother have received a great deal of 
kindness from myself, as well as from my worthy 
brother the fisherman, and I suppose you would not 
be sorry to repay some of it.” 

“ Please your Majesty,” answered Perseus, “ I 
would willingly risk my life to do so.” 

“Well, then,” continued the king, still with a cun¬ 
ning smile on his lips, “ I have a little adventure to 
propose to you ; and, as you are a brave and enterpris¬ 
ing youth, you will doubtless look upon it as a great 
piece of good luck to have so rare an opportunity of 
distinguishing yourself. You must know, my good 
Perseus, I think of getting married to the beautiful 
Princess Hippodamia; and it is customary, on these 
occasions, to make the bride a present of some far¬ 
fetched and elegant curiosity. I have been a little 
perplexed, I must honestly confess, where to obtain 
anything likely to please a princess of her exquisite 
taste. But, this morning, I flatter myself, I have 
thought of precisely the article.” 

“And can I assist your Majesty in obtaining it?” 
cried Perseus, eagerly. 

“ You can, if you are as brave a youth as I believe 
you to be,” replied King Polydectes, with the utmost 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 23 

graciousness of manner. “ The bridal gift which I 
have set my heart on presenting to the beautiful Hip- 
podamia is the head of the Gorgon Medusa with the 
snaky locks; and I depend on you, my dear Perseus, 
to bring it to me. So, as I am anxious to settle affairs 
with the princess, the sooner you go in quest of the 
Gorgon, the better I shall be pleased.” 

“ I will set out to-morrow morning,” answered 
Perseus. 

“ Pray do so, my gallant youth,” rejoined the king. 
“ And, Perseus, in cutting off the Gorgon’s head, be 
careful to make a clean stroke, so as not to injure its 
appearance. You must bring it home in the very best 
condition, in order to suit the exquisite taste of the 
beautiful Princess Hippodamia.” 

Perseus left the palace, but was scarcely out of 
hearing before Polydectes burst into a laugh; being 
greatly amused, wicked king that he was, to find how 
readily the young man fell into the snare. The news 
quickly spread abroad that Perseus had undertaken to 
cut off the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. 
Everybody was rejoiced; for most of the inhabitants 
of the island were as wicked as the king himself, and 
would have liked nothing better than to see some 
enormous mischief happen to Danae and her son. 
The only good man in this unfortunate island of Seri- 
phus appears to have been the fisherman. As Perseus 
walked along, therefore, the people pointed after him, 
and made mouths, and winked to one another, and 
ridiculed him as loudly as they dared. 

“ Ho, ho! ” cried they ; “ Medusa’s snakes will sting 
him soundly! ” 

Now, there were three Gorgons alive at that period 5 
and they were the most strange and terrible monsters 


24 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


that had ever been since the world was made, or that 
have been seen in after days, or that are likely to be 
seen in all time to come. I hardly know what sort of 
creature or hobgoblin to call them. They were three 
sisters, and seem to have borne some distant resem¬ 
blance to women, but were really a very frightful and 
mischievous species of dragon. It is, indeed, difficult 
to imagine what hideous beings these three sisters 
were. Why, instead of locks of hair, if you can be¬ 
lieve me, they had each of them a hundred enormous 
snakes growing on their heads, all alive, twisting, 
wriggling, curling, and thrusting out their venomous 
tongues, with forked stings at the end ! The teeth 
of the Gorgons were terribly long tusks ; their hands 
were made of brass; and their bodies were all over 
scales, which, if not iron, were something as hard and 
impenetrable. They had wings, too, and exceedingly 
splendid ones, I can assure you ; for every feather in 
them was pure, bright, glittering, burnished gold, and 
they looked very dazzlingly, no doubt, when the Gor¬ 
gons were flying about in the sunshine. 

But when people happened to catch a glimpse of 
their glittering brightness, aloft in the air, they sel¬ 
dom stopped to gaze, but ran and hid themselves as 
speedily as they could. You will think, perhaps, that 
they were afraid of being stung by the serpents that 
served the Gorgons instead of hair, — or of having 
their heads bitten off by their ugly tusks, — or of be¬ 
ing torn all to pieces by their brazen claws. Well, to 
be sure, these were some of the dangers, but by no 
means the greatest, nor the most difficult to avoid. 
For the worst thing about these abominable Gorgons 
was, that, if once a poor mortal fixed his eyes full 
upon one of their faces, he was certain, that very in- 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 25 

stant to be changed from warm flesh and blood into 
cold and lifeless stone ! 

Thus, as you will easily perceive, it was a very dan¬ 
gerous adventure that the wicked King Polydectes had 
contrived for this innocent young man. Perseus him' 
self, when he had thought over the matter, could not 
help seeing that he had very little chance of coming 
safely through it, and that he was far more likely to 
become a stone image than to bring back the head of 
Medusa with the snaky locks. For, not to speak of 
other difficulties, there was one which it would have 
puzzled an older man than Perseus to get over. Not 
only must he fight with and slay this golden-winged, 
iron-scaled, long-tusked, brazen-clawed, snaky-haired 
monster, but he must do it with his eyes shut, or, at 
least, without so much as a glance at the enemy with 
whom he was contending. Else, while his arm was 
lifted to strike, he would stiffen into stone, and stand 
with that uplifted arm for centuries, until time, and 
the wind and weather, should crumble him quite away. 
This would be a very sad thing to befall a young man 
who wanted to perform a great many brave deeds, and 
to enjoy a great deal of happiness, in this bright and 
beautiful world. 

So disconsolate did these thoughts make him, that 
Perseus could not bear to tell his mother what he had 
undertaken to do. He therefore took his shield, girded 
on his sword, and crossed over from the island to the 
mainland, where he sat down in a solitary place, and 
hardly refrained from shedding tears. 

But, while he was in this sorrowful mood, he heard 
a voice close beside him. 

“ Perseus,” said the voice, “ why are you sad ? ” 

He lifted his head from his hands, in which he had 


26 THE GORGON’S HEAD 

hidden it, and, behold! all alone as Perseus had sup 
posed himself to be, there was a stranger in the soli¬ 
tary place. It was a brisk, intelligent, and remarkar 
bly shrewd-looking young man, with a cloak over his 
shoulders, an odd sort of cap on his head, a strangely 
twisted staff in his hand, and a short and very crooked 
sword hanging by his side. He was exceedingly light 
and active in his figure, like a person much accustomed 
to gymnastic exercises, and well able to leap or run. 
Above all, the stranger had such a cheerful, knowing, 
and helpful aspect (though it was certainly a little 
mischievous, into the bargain), that Perseus could not 
help feeling his spirits grow livelier as he gazed at 
him. Besides, being really a courageous youth, he felt 
greatly ashamed that anybody should have found him 
with tears in his eyes, like a timid little school-boy, 
when, after all, there might be no occasion for despair. 
So Perseus wiped his eyes, and answered the stranger 
pretty briskly, putting on as brave a look as he could. 

“ I am not so very sad,” said he, “ only thoughtful 
about an adventure that I have undertaken.” 

“ Oho ! ” answered the stranger. “ Well, tell me 
all about it, and possibly I may be of service to you. 
I have helped a good many young men through adven¬ 
tures that looked difficult enough beforehand. Per¬ 
haps you may have heard of me. I have more names 
than one ; but the name of Quicksilver suits me as 
well as any other. Tell me what the trouble is, and we 
will talk the matter over, and see what can be done.” 

The stranger’s words and manner put Perseus into 
quite a different mood from his former one. He re¬ 
solved to tell Quicksilver all his difficulties, since he 
could not easily be worse off than he already was, and, 
very possibly, his new friend might give him some ad 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


27 


vice that would turn out well in the end. So he 
let the stranger know, in few words, precisely what 
the case was, — how that King Polydectes wanted the 
head of Medusa with the snaky locks as a bridal gift 
for the beautiful Princess Hippodamia, and how that 
he had undertaken to get it for him, but was afraid of 
being turned into stone. 

“ And that would be a great pity,” said Quicksilver, 
with his mischievous smile. “You would make a very 
handsome marble statue, it is true, and it would be a 
considerable number of centuries before you crumbled 
away; but, on the whole, one would rather be a young 
man for a few years, than a stone image for a great 
many.” 

“Oh, far rather! ” exclaimed Perseus, with the tears 
again standing in his eyes. “ And, besides, what 
would my dear mother do, if her beloved son were 
turned into a stone ? ” 

“Well, well, let us hope that the affair will not turn 
out so very badly,” replied Quicksilver, in an encour¬ 
aging tone. “ I am the very person to help you, if 
anybody can. My sister and myself will do our ut¬ 
most to bring you safe through the adventure, ugly as 
it now looks.” 

“ Your sister ? ” repeated Perseus. 

“ Yes, my sister,” said the stranger. “ She is very 
wise, I promise you; and as for myself, I generally 
have all my wits about me, such as they are. If you 
show yourself bold and cautious, and follow our advice, 
you need not fear being a stone image yet awhile. 
But, first of all, you must polish your shield, till you 
can see your face in it as distinctly as in a mirror.” 

This seemed to Perseus rather an odd beginning of 
the adventure; for he thought it of far more conse- 


28 THE GORGON’S HEAD 

quence that the shield should be strong enough to de¬ 
fend him from the Gorgon’s brazen claws, than that 
it should be bright enough to show him the reflection 
of his face. However, concluding that Quicksilver 
knew better than himself, he immediately set to work, 
and scrubbed the shield with so much diligence and 
good-will, that it very quickly shone like the moon at 
harvest-time. Quicksilver looked at it with a smile, 
and nodded his approbation. Then, taking off his 
own short and crooked sword, he girded it about Per¬ 
seus, instead of the one which he had before worn. 

“ No sword but mine will answer your purpose,” ol> 
served he; “ the blade has a most excellent temper, 
and will cut through iron and brass as easily as through 
the slenderest twig. And now we will set out. The 
next thing is to find the Three Gray Women, who will 
tell us where to find the Nymphs.” 

“The Three Gray Women!” cried Perseus, to 
whom this seemed only a new difficulty in the path of 
his adventure ; “ pray who may the Three Gray Wo¬ 
men be ? I never heard of them before.” 

“ They are three very strange old ladies,” said 
Quicksilver, laughing. “ They have but one eye 
among them, and only one tooth. Moreover, you 
must find them out by starlight, or in the dusk of the 
evening ; for they never show themselves by the light 
either of the sun or moon.” 

“ But,” said Perseus, “ why should I waste my time 
with these Three Gray Women? Would it not be 
better to set out at once in search of the terrible Gor- 
gons ? ” 

“ No, no,” answered his friend. “ There are other 
things to be done, before you can find your way to 
the Gorgons. There is nothing for it but to hunt up 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 29 

these old ladies ; and when we meet with them, you 
may be sure that the Gorgons are not a great way off. 
Come, let us be stirring ! ” 

Perseus, by this time, felt so much confidence in his 
companion’s sagacity, that he made no more objections, 
and professed himself ready to begin the adventure im¬ 
mediately. They accordingly set out, and walked at a 
pretty brisk pace ; so brisk, indeed, that Perseus found 
it rather difficult to keep up with his nimble friend 
Quicksilver. To say the truth, he had a singular idea 
that Quicksilver was furnished with a pair of winged 
shoes, which, of course, helped him along marvel¬ 
lously. And then, too, when Perseus looked sideways 
at him, out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to see 
wings on the side of his head ; although, if lie turned 
a full gaze, there were no such things to be perceived, 
but only an odd kind of cap. But, at all events, the 
twisted staff was evidently a great convenience to 
Quicksilver, and enabled him to proceed so fast, that 
Perseus, though a remarkably active young man, be¬ 
gan to be out of breath. 

“ Here ! ” cried Quicksilver, at last, — for he knew 
well enough, rogue that he was, how hard Perseus 
found it to keep pace with him, — “ take you the staff, 
for you need it a great deal more than I. Are there 
no better walkers than yourself in the island of Seri- 
phus ?” 

“ I could walk pretty well,” said Perseus, glancing 
slyly at his companion’s feet, “ if I had only a pair of 
winged shoes.” 

“We must see about getting you a pair,” answered 
Quicksilver. 

But the staff helped Perseus along so bravely, that 
he no longer felt the slightest weariness. In fact, the 


30 THE GORGON’S HEAD 

stick seemed to be alive in his hand, and to lend some 
of its life to Perseus. He and Quicksilver now walked 
onward at their ease, talking very sociably together; 
and Quicksilver told so many pleasant stories about 
his former adventures, and how well his wits had served 
him on various occasions, that Perseus began to think 
him a very wonderful person. He evidently knew the 
world ; and nobody is so charming to a young man as 
a friend who has that kind of knowledge. Perseus 
listened the more eagerly, in the hope of brightening 
his own wits by what he heard. 

At last, he happened to recollect that Quicksilver 
had spoken of a sister, who was to lend her assistance 
in the adventure which they were now bound upon. 

“ Where is she ? ” he inquired. “ Shall we not 
meet her soon ? ” 

“All at the proper time,” said his companion. 
“But this sister of mine, you must understand, is 
quite a different sort of character from myself. She 
is very grave and prudent, seldom smiles, never 
laughs, and makes it a rule not to utter a word un¬ 
less she has something particularly profound to say. 
Neither will she listen to any but the wisest conversa¬ 
tion.” 

“ Dear me! ” ejaculated Perseus; “ I shall be afraid 
to say a syllable.” 

“ She is a very accomplished person, I assure you,” 
continued Quicksilver, “and has all the arts and 
sciences at her fingers’ ends. In short, she is so im¬ 
moderately wise, that many people call her wisdom 
personified. But, to tell you the truth, she has hardly 
vivacity enough for my taste ; and I think you would 
scarcely find her so pleasant a travelling companion 
as myself. She has her good points, nevertheless' 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 31 

and you will find the benefit of them, in your en¬ 
counter with the Gorgons.” 

By this time it had grown quite dusk. They were 
now come to a very wild and desert place, overgrown 
with shaggy bushes, and so silent and solitary that 
nobody seemed ever to have dwelt or journeyed there. 
All was waste and desolate, in the gray twilight, 
which grew every moment more obscure. Perseus 
looked about him, rather disconsolately, and asked 
Quicksilver whether they had a great deal farther 
to go. 

“ Hist! hist! ” whispered his companion. “ Make 
no noise! This is just the time and place to meet the 
Three Gray Women. Be careful that they do not see 
you before you see them; for, though they have but a 
single eye among the three, it is as sharp-sighted as 
half a dozen common eyes.” 

“ But what must I do,” asked Perseus, “ when we 
meet them? ” 

Quicksilver explained to Perseus how the Three 
Gray Women managed with their one eye. They 
were in the habit, it seems, of changing it from one to 
another, as if it had been a pair of spectacles, or — 
which would have suited them better — a quizzing- 
glass. When one of the three had kept the eye a 
certain time, she took it out of the socket and passed 
it to one of her sisters, whose turn it might happen to 
be, and who immediately clapped it into her own 
head, and enjoyed a peep at the visible world. Thus 
it will easily be understood that only one of the Three 
Gray Women could see, while the other two were in 
utter darkness; and, moreover, at the instant when 
the eye was passing from hand to hand, neither of the 
poor old ladies was able to see a wink. I have heard 


32 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


of a great many strange things, in my day, and have 
witnessed not a few; but none, it seems to me, that 
can compare with the oddity of these Three Gray 
Women, all peeping through a single eye. 

So thought Perseus, likewise, and was so astonished 
that he almost fancied his companion was joking with 
him, and that there were no such old women in the 
world. 

“ You will soon find whether I tell the truth or no,” 
observed Quicksilver. “ Hark ! hush! hist! hist! 
There they come, now! ” 

Perseus looked earnestly through the dusk of the 
evening, and there, sure enough, at no great distance 
off, he descried the Three Gray Women. The light 
being so faint, he could not well make out what sort 
of figures they were; only he discovered that they 
had long gray hair; and, as they came nearer, he saw 
that two of them had but the empty socket of an eye, 
in the middle of their foreheads. But, in the middle 
of the third sister’s forehead, there was a very large, 
bright, and piercing eye, which sparkled like a great 
diamond in a ring ; and so penetrating did it seem to 
be, that Perseus could not help thinking it must pos¬ 
sess the gift of seeing in the darkest midnight just as 
perfectly as at noonday. The sight of three persons’ 
eyes was melted and collected into that single one. 

Thus the three old dames got along about as com¬ 
fortably, upon the whole, as if they could all see at 
once. She who chanced to have the eye in her fore¬ 
head led the other two by the hands, peeping sharply 
about her, all the while; insomuch that Perseus 
dreaded lest she should see right through the thick 
clump of bushes behind which he and Quicksilver had 
hidden themselves. My stars ! it was positively terri¬ 
ble to be within reach of so very sharp an eye ! 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 33 

But, before they reached the clump of bushes, one 
of the Three Gray Women spoke. 

“ Sister! Sister Scarecrow! ” cried she, “ you have 
had the eye long enough. It is my turn now! ” 

“ Let me keep it a moment longer, Sister Night¬ 
mare,” answered Scarecrow. “I thought I had a 
glimpse of something behind that thick bush.” 

“Well, and what of that?” retorted Nightmare, 
peevishly. “ Can’t I see into a thick bush as easily as 
yourself ? The eye is mine as well as yours; and I 
know the use of it as well as you, or may be a little 
better. I insist upon taking a peep immediately! ” 
But here the third sister, whose name was Shake- 
joint, began to complain, and said that it was her turn 
to have the eye, and that Scarecrow and Nightmare 
wanted to keep it all to themselves. To end the dis¬ 
pute, old Dame Scarecrow took the eye out of her 
forehead, and held it forth in her hand. 

“Take it, one of you,” cried she, “and quit this 
foolish quarrelling. For my part, I shall be glad of a 
little thick darkness. Take it quickly, however, or I 
must clap it into my own head again! ” 

Accordingly, both Nightmare and Shake joint put 
out their hands, groping eagerly to snatch the eye out 
of the hand of Scarecrow. But, being both alike blind, 
they could not easily find where Scarecrow’s hand 
was; and Scarecrow, being now just as much in the 
dark as Shake joint and Nightmare, could not at once 
meet either of their hands, in order to put the eye 
into it. Thus (as you will see, with half an eye, my 
wise little auditors), these good old dames had fallen 
into a strange perplexity. For, though the eye shone 
and glistened like a star, as Scarecrow held it out, yet 
the Gray Women caught not the least glimpse of its 

’TOL. IV. 3 


34 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


light, and were all three in utter darkness, from too 
impatient a desire to see. 

Quicksilver was so much tickled at beholding Shake- 
joint and Nightmare both groping for the eye, and 
each finding fault with Scarecrow and one another, 
that he could scarcely help laughing aloud. 

“ Now is your time ! ” he whispered to Perseus^ 
“ Quick, quick ! before they can clap the eye into 
either of their heads. Rush out upon the old ladies, 
and snatch it from Scarecrow’s hand ! ” 

In an instant, while the Three Gray Women were 
still scolding each other, Perseus leaped from behind 
the clump of bushes, and made himself master of the 
prize. The marvellous eye, as he held it in his hand, 
shone very brightly, and seemed to look up into his 
face with a knowing air, and an expression as if it 
would have winked, had it been provided with a pair 
of eyelids for that purpose. But the Gray Women 
knew nothing of what had happened ; and, each sup¬ 
posing that one of her sisters was in possession of the 
eye, they began their quarrel anew. At last, as Per¬ 
seus did not wish to put these respectable dames to 
greater inconvenience than was really necessary, he 
thought it right to explain the matter. 

“ My good ladies,” said he, “ pray do not be angry 
with one another. If anybody is in fault, it is myself; 
for I have the honor to hold your very brilliant and 
excellent eye in my own hand! ” 

“ You ! you have our eye! And who are you ? ” 
screamed the Three Gray Women, all in a breath; for 
they were terribly frightened, of course, at hearing a 
strange voice, and discovering that their eyesight had 
got into the hands of they could not guess whom. 
“Oh, what shall we do, sisters? what shall we do? We 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


35 


are all in the dark ! Give us our. eye ! Give us our 
one, precious, solitary eye! You have two of your 
own ! Give us our eye ! ” 

“ Tell them,” whispered Quicksilver to Perseus, 
“ that they shall have back the eye as soon as they 
direct you where to find the Nymphs who have the 
flying slippers, the magic wallet, and the helmet of 
darkness.” 

“ My dear, good, admirable old ladies,” said Per* 
seus, addressing the Gray Women, “ there is no occa¬ 
sion for putting yourselves into such a fright. I am 
by no means a bad young man. You shall have back 
your eye, safe and sound, and as bright as ever, the 
moment you tell me where to find the Nymphs.” 

“ The Nymphs! Goodness me! sisters, what Nymphs 
does he mean ? ” screamed Scarecrow. “ There are a 
great many Nymphs, people say; some that go a hunt¬ 
ing in the woods, and some that live inside of trees, 
and some that have a comfortable home in fountains 
of water. We know nothing at all about them. We 
are three unfortunate old souls, that go wandering 
about in the dusk, and never had but one eye amongst 
us, and that one you have stolen away. Oh, give it 
back, good stranger! — whoever you are, give it back! ” 

All this while the Three Gray Women were grop¬ 
ing with their outstretched hands, and trying their 
utmost to get hold of Perseus. But he took good care 
to keep out of their reach. 

“ My respectable dames,” said he, — for his mother 
had taught him always to use the greatest civility, — 
“ I hold your eye fast in my hand, and shall keep it 
safely for you, until you please to tell me where to 
find these Nymphs. The Nymphs, I mean, who keep 
the enchanted wallet, the flying slippers, and the what 
is it ? — the helmet of invisibility.” 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


“ Mercy on us, sisters! what is the young man talk¬ 
ing about?” exclaimed Scarecrow, Nightmare, and 
Shake joint, one to another, with great appearance of 
astonishment. “ A pair of flying slippers, quoth he ! 
His heels would quickly fly higher than his head, if 
he were silly enough to put them on. And a helmet 
of invisibility! How could a helmet make him in¬ 
visible, unless it were big enough for him to hide un¬ 
der it ? And an enchanted wallet! What sort of a 
contrivance may that he, I wonder? No, no, good 
stranger ! we can tell you nothing of these marvellous 
things. You have two eyes of your own, and we 
have but a single one amongst us three. You can- 
find out such wonders better than three blind old crea¬ 
tures, like us.” 

Perseus, hearing them talk in this way, began really 
to think that the Gray Women knew nothing of the 
matter; and, as it grieved him to have put them to so 
much trouble, he was just on the point of restoring 
their eye and asking pardon for his rudeness in snatch¬ 
ing it away. But Quicksilver caught his hand. 

“ Don’t let them make a fool of you ! ” said he. 
“These Three Gray Women are the only persons in 
the world that can tell you where to find the Nymphs; 
and, unless you get that information, you will never 
succeed in cutting off the head of Medusa with the 
snaky locks. Keep fast hold of the eye, and all will 
go well.” 

As it turned out, Quicksilver was in the right. 
There are but few things that people prize so much as 
they do their eyesight; and the Gray Women valued 
their single eye as highly as if it had been half a 
dozen, which was the number they ought to have had. 
Finding that there was no other way of recovering it. 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


37 


they at last told Perseus what he wanted to know. No 
sooner had they done so, than he immediately, and 
with the utmost respect, clapped the eye into the va¬ 
cant socket in one of their foreheads, thanked them 
for their kindness, and bade them farewell. Before 
the young man was out of hearing, however, they had 
got into a new dispute, because he happened to have 
given the eye to Scarecrow, who had already taken her 
turn of it when their trouble with Perseus commenced. 

It is greatly to be feared that the Three Gray 
Women were very much in the habit of disturbing 
their mutual harmony by bickerings of this sort; 
which was the more pity, as they could not conven¬ 
iently do without one another, and were evidently in¬ 
tended to be inseparable companions. As a general 
rule, I would advise all people, whether sisters or 
brothers, old or young, who chance to have but one 
eye amongst them, to cultivate forbearance, and not 
all insist upon peeping through it at once. 

Quicksilver and Perseus, in the mean time, were 
making the best of their way in quest of the Nymphs. 
The old dames had given them such particular direc¬ 
tions, that they were not long in finding them out. 
They proved to be very different persons from Night¬ 
mare, Shakejoint, and Scarecrow; for, instead of be¬ 
ing old, they were young and beautiful; and instead 
of one eye amongst the sisterhood, each Nymph had 
two exceedingly bright eyes of her own, with which 
she looked very kindly at Perseus. They seemed to 
be acquainted with Quicksilver; and, when he told 
them the adventure which Perseus had undertaken, 
they made no difficulty about giving him the valuable 
articles that were in their custody. In the first place, 
they brought out what appeared to be a small purse, 


38 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


made of deer skin, and curiously embroidered, and bade 
him be sure and keep it safe. This was the magic 
wallet. The Nymphs next produced a pair of shoes, 
or slippers, or sandals, with a nice little pair of wings 
at the heel of each. 

“ Put them on, Perseus,” said Quicksilver. “ You 
will find yourself as light-heeled as you can desire for 
the remainder of our journey.” 

So Perseus proceeded to put one of the slippers 
on, while he laid the other on the ground by his side. 
Unexpectedly, however, this other slipper spread its 
wings, fluttered up off the ground, and would proba¬ 
bly have flown away, if Quicksilver had not made a 
leap, and luckily caught it in the air. 

“ Be more careful,” said he, as he gave it back to 
Perseus. “It would frighten the birds, up aloft, if 
they should see a flying slipper amongst them.” 

When Perseus had got on both of these wonderful 
slippers, he was altogether too buoyant to tread on 
earth. Making a step or two, lo and behold ! upward 
he popped into the air, high above the heads of Quick¬ 
silver and the Nymphs, and found it very difficult to 
clamber down again. Winged slippers, and all such 
high-flying contrivances, are seldom quite easy to 
manage until one grows a little accustomed to them. 
Quicksilver laughed at his companion’s involuntary 
activity, and told him that he must not be in so des* 
perate a hurry, but must wait for the invisible helmet. 

The good-natured Nymphs had the helmet, with its 
dark tuft of waving plumes, all in readiness to put 
upon his head. And now there happened about as 
wonderful an incident as anything that I have yet 
told you. The instant before the helmet was put on, 
there stood Perseus, a beautiful young man, with 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


39 


golden ringlets and rosy cheeks, the crooked sword by 
his side, and the brightly polished shield upon his 
arm, — a figure that seemed all made up of courage, 
sprightliness, and glorious light. But when the hel¬ 
met had descended over his white brow, there was no 
longer any Perseus to be seen! Nothing but empty 
air! Even the helmet, that covered him with its in¬ 
visibility, had vanished! 

“ Where are you, Perseus ? ” asked Quicksilver. 

“ Why, here, to be sure ! ” answered Perseus, very 
quietly, although his voice seemed to come out of the 
transparent atmosphere. u Just where I was a mo¬ 
ment ago. Don’t you see me ? ” 

“No, indeed! ” answered his friend. “You are 
hidden under the helmet. But, if I cannot see you, 
neither can the Gorgons. Follow me, therefore, and 
we will try your dexterity in using the winged slip¬ 
pers.” 

With these words, Quicksilver’s cap spread its 
wings, as if his head were about to fly away from his 
shoulders ; but his whole figure rose lightly into the 
air, and Perseus followed. By the time they had as 
cended a few hundred feet, the young man began to 
feel what a delightful thing it was to leave the dull 
earth so far beneath him, and to be able to flit about 
like a bird. 

It was now deep night. Perseus looked upward, 
and saw the round, bright, silvery moon, and thought 
that he should desire nothing better than to soar up 
thither, and spend his life there. Then he looked 
downward again, and saw the earth, with its seas and 
lakes, and the silver courses of its rivers, and its 
snowy mountain-peaks, and the breadth of its fields, 
and the dark cluster of its woods, and its cities of 


40 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


white marble ; and, with the moonshine sleeping over 
the whole scene, it was as beautiful as the moon or 
any star could be. And, among other objects, he saw 
the island of Seriphus, where his dear mother was. 
Sometimes he and Quicksilver approached a cloud, 
that, at a distance, looked as if it were made of fleecy 
silver; although, when they plunged into it, they 
found themselves chilled and moistened with gray 
mist. So swift was their flight, however, that, in an 
instant, they emerged from the cloud into the moon¬ 
light again. Once, a liigh-soaring eagle flew right 
against the invisible Perseus. The bravest sights were 
the meteors, that gleamed suddenly out, as if a bonfire 
had been kindled in the sky, and made the moonshine 
pale for as much as a hundred miles around them. 

As the two companions flew onward, Perseus fancied 
that he could hear the rustle of a garment close by his 
side ; and it was on the side opposite to the one where 
he beheld Quicksilver, yet only Quicksilver was visible. 

“ Whose garment is this,” inquired Perseus, “ that 
keeps rustling close beside me in the breeze ? ” 

“ Oh, it is my sister’s! ” answered Quicksilver. 
“ She is coming along with us, as I told you she 
would. We could do nothing without the help of my 
sister. You have no idea how wise she is. She has 
such eyes, too! Why, she can see you, at this mo¬ 
ment, just as distinctly as if you were not invisible ; 
and I ’ll venture to say, she will be the first to dis¬ 
cover the Gorgons.” 

By this time, in their swift voyage through the air, 
they had come within sight of the great ocean, and 
were soon flying over it. Far beneath them, the 
waves tossed themselves tumultuously in mid-sea, or 
rolled a white surf-line upon the long beaches, or 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


41 


foamed against the rocky cliffs, with a roar that was 
thunderous, in the lower world; although it became a 
gentle murmur, like the voice of a baby half asleep, 
before it reached the ears of Perseus. Just then a 
voice spoke in the air close by him. It seemed to be 
a woman’s voice, and was melodious, though not ex¬ 
actly what might be called sweet, but grave and mild. 

“ Perseus,” said the voice, “ there are the Gorgons.” 

“ Where ? ” exclaimed Perseus. “ I cannot see 
them.” 

“ On the shore of that island beneath you,” replied 
the voice. “ A pebble, dropped from your hand, would 
strike in the midst of them.” 

“ I told you she would be the first to discover them,” 
said Quicksilver to Perseus. “ And there they are ! ” 

Straight downward, two or three thousand feet be¬ 
low him, Perseus perceived a small island, with the sea 
breaking into white foam all around its rocky shore, 
except on one side, where there was a beach of snowy 
sand. He descended towards it, and, looking earnestly 
at a cluster or heap of brightness, at the foot of a pre¬ 
cipice of black rocks, behold, there were the terrible 
Gorgons ! They lay fast asleep, soothed by the thun¬ 
der of the sea; for it required a tumult that would 
have deafened everybody else to lull such fierce crea¬ 
tures into slumber. The moonlight glistened on their 
steely scales, and on their golden wings, which drooped 
idly over the sand. Their brazen claws, horrible to 
look at, were thrust out, and clutched the wave-beaten 
fragments of rock, while the sleeping Gorgons dreamed 
of tearing some poor mortal all to pieces. The snakes 
that served them instead of hair seemed likewise to be 
asleep; although, now and then, one would writhe, 
and lift its head, and thrust out its forked tongue, 


42 THE GORGON’S HEAD 

emitting a drowsy hiss, and then let itself subside 
among its sister snakes. 

The Gorgons were more like an awful, gigantic kind 
of insect,—immense, golden-winged beetles, or dragon* 
flies, or things of that sort, — at once ugly and beau¬ 
tiful, — than like anything else ; only that they were 
a thousand and a million times as big. And, with all 
this, there was something partly human about them, 
too. Luckily for Perseus, their faces were completely 
hidden from him by the posture in which they lay; 
for, had he but looked one instant at them, he would 
have fallen heavily out of the air, an image of sense¬ 
less stone. 

“ Now,” whispered Quicksilver, as he hovered by the 
side of Perseus, — “ now is your time to do the deed ! 
Be quick; for, if one of the Gorgons should awake, 
you are too late! ” 

“ Which shall I strike at ? ” asked Perseus, draw¬ 
ing his sword and descending a little lower. “ They 
all three look alike. All three have snaky locks. 
Which of the three is Medusa ? ” 

It must be understood that Medusa was the only 
one of these dragon-monsters whose head Perseus could 
possibly cut off. As for the other two, let him have 
the sharpest sword that ever was forged, and he might 
have hacked away by the hour together, without doing 
them the least harm. 

“ Be cautious,” said the calm voice which had before 
spoken to him. “ One of the Gorgons is stirring in 
her sleep, and is just about to turn over. That is 
Medusa. Do not look at her ! The sight would turn 
you to stone ! Look at the reflection of her face and 
figure in the bright mirror of your shield.” 

Perseus now understood Quicksilver’s motive for ao 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


43 


earnestly exhorting him to polish his shield. In its 
surface he could safely look at the reflection of the Gor¬ 
gon’s face. And there it was,—that terrible counte¬ 
nance,— mirrored in the brightness of the shield, with 
the moonlight falling over it, and displaying all its 
horror. The snakes, whose venomous natures could 
not altogether sleep, kept twisting themselves over the 
forehead. It was the fiercest and most horrible face 
that ever was seen or imagined, and yet with a strange, 
fearful, and savage kind of beauty in it. The eyes 
were closed, and the Gorgon was still in a deep slum¬ 
ber ; but there was an unquiet expression disturbing 
her features, as if the monster was troubled with an 
ugly dream. She gnashed her white tusks, and dug 
into the sand with her brazen claws. 

The snakes, too, seemed to feel Medusa’s dream, and 
to be made more restless by it. They twined them¬ 
selves into tumultuous knots, writhed fiercely, and up¬ 
lifted a hundred hissing heads, without opening their 
eyes. 

“ Now, now! ” whispered Quicksilver, who was grow¬ 
ing impatient. “ Make a dash at the monster ! ” 

“ But be calm,” said the grave, melodious voice, at 
the young man’s side. “ Look in your shield, as you 
fly downward, and take care that you do not miss your 
first stroke.” 

Perseus flew cautiously downward, still keeping his 
eyes on Medusa’s face, as reflected in his shield. The 
nearer he came, the more terrible did the snaky visage 
and metallic body of the monster grow. At last, when 
he found hi m self hovering over her within arm’s length, 
Perseus uplifted his sword, while, at the same instant, 
each separate snake upon the Gorgon’s head stretched 
threateningly upward, and Medusa unclosed her eyes. 


44 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


But she awoke too late. The sword was sharp *, the 
stroke fell like a lightning-flash; and the head of the 
wicked Medusa tumbled from her body! 

“Admirably done!” cried Quicksilver. “Make 
haste, and clap the head into your magic wallet.” 

To the astonishment of Perseus, the small, embrot 
dered wallet, which he had hung about his neck, and 
which had hitherto been no bigger than a purse, grew 
all at once large enough to contain Medusa’s head. 
As quick as thought, he snatched it up, with the snakes 
still writhing upon it, and thrust it in. 

“ Your task is done,” said the calm voice. “ Now 
fly; for the other Gorgons will do their utmost to take 
vengeance for Medusa’s death.” 

It was, indeed, necessary to take flight; for Perseus 
had not done the deed so quietly but that the clash of 
his sword, and the hissing of the snakes, and the thump 
of Medusa’s head as it tumbled upon the sea-beaten 
sand, awoke the other two monsters. There they sat, 
for an instant, sleepily rubbing their eyes with their 
brazen fingers, while all the snakes on their heads 
reared themselves on end with surprise, and with ven¬ 
omous malice against they knew not what. But when 
the Gorgons saw the scaly carcass of Medusa, head¬ 
less, and her golden wmgs all ruffled, and half spread 
out on the sand, it was really awful to hear what yells 
and screeches they set up. And then the snakes ! 
They sent forth a hundred-fold hiss, with one consent, 
and Medusa’s snakes answered them out of the magio 
wallet. 

No sooner were the Gorgons broad awake than they 
hurtled upward into the air, brandishing their brass 
talons, gnashing their horrible tusks, and flapping theii 
huge wings so wildly, that some of the golden feathers 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


45 


were shaken out, and floated down upon the shore. And 
there, perhaps, those very feathers lie scattered, till 
this day. Up rose the Gorgons, as I tell you, staring 
horribly about, in hopes of turning somebody to stone. 
Had Perseus looked them in the face, or had he fallen 
into their clutches, his poor mother would never have 
kissed her boy again ! But he took good care to turn 
his eyes another way; and, as he wore the helmet of 
invisibility, the Gorgons knew not in what direction 
to follow him; nor did he fail to make the best use of 
the winged slippers, by soaring upward a perpendicu¬ 
lar mile or so. At that height, when the screams of 
those abominable creatures sounded faintly beneath 
him, he made a straight course for the island of Seri- 
phus, in order to carry Medusa’s head to King Poly- 
dec tes. 

I have no time to tell you of several marvellous 
things that befell Perseus, on his way homeward ; such 
as his killing a hideous sea-monster, just as it was on 
the point of devouring a beautiful maiden ; nor how 
he changed an enormous giant into a mountain of 
stone, merely by showing him the head of the Gorgon. 
If you doubt this latter story, you may make a voy¬ 
age to Africa, some day or other, and see the very 
mountain, which is still known by the ancient giant’s 
name. 

Finally, our brave Perseus arrived at the island, 
where he expected to see his dear mother. But, dur 
ing his absence, the wicked king had treated Danae 
so very ill that she was compelled to make her escape, 
and had taken refuge in a temple, where some good 
old priests were extremely kind to her. These praise¬ 
worthy priests, and the kind-hearted fisherman, who 
had. first shown hospitality to Danae and little Perseus 


46 THE GORGON’S HEAD 

when he found them afloat in the chest, seem to have 
been the only persons on the island who cared about 
doing right. All the rest of the people, as well as 
King Polydectes himself, were remarkably ill-behaved, 
and deserved no better destiny than that which was 
now to happen. 

Not finding his mother at home, Perseus went 
straight to the palace, and was immediately ushered 
into the presence of the king. Polydectes was by no 
means rejoiced to see him ; for he had felt almost cer¬ 
tain, in his own evil mind, that the Gorgons would 
have torn the poor young man to pieces, and have 
eaten him up, out of the way. However, seeing him 
safely returned, he put the best face he could upon the 
matter and asked Perseus how he had succeeded. 

“ Have you performed your promise ? ” inquired he. 
“ Have you brought me the head of Medusa with the 
snaky locks ? If not, young man, it will cost you dear ; 
for I must have a bridal present for the beautiful Prin¬ 
cess Hippodamia, and there is nothing else that she 
would admire so much.” 

“ Yes, please your Majesty,” answered Perseus, in a 
quiet way, as if it were no very wonderful deed for 
such a young man as he to perform. “ I have brought 
you the Gorgon’s head, snaky locks and all! ” 

“ Indeed ! Pray let me see it,” quoth King Poly¬ 
dectes. “ It must be a very curious spectacle, if all 
that travellers tell about it be true! ” 

“ Your Majesty is in the right,” replied Perseus. 
“ It is really an object that will be pretty certain to 
fix the regards of all who look at it. And, if your 
Majesty think fit, I would suggest that a holiday be 
proclaimed, and that all your Majesty’s subjects be 
summoned to behold this wonderful curiosity. Few of 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 47 

them, I imagine, have seen a Gorgon’s head before, 
and perhaps never may again ! ” 

The king well knew that his subjects were an idle 
set of reprobates, and very fond of sight-seeing, as idle 
persons usually are. So he took the young man’s ad¬ 
vice, and sent out heralds and messengers, in all di¬ 
rections, to blow the trumpet at the street-corners, and 
in the market-places, and wherever two roads met, and 
summon everybody to court. Thither, accordingly, 
came a great multitude of good-for-nothing vagabonds, 
all of whom, out of pure love of mischief, would have 
been glad if Perseus had met with some ill hap in his 
encounter with the Gorgons. If there were any better 
people in the island (as I really hope there may have 
been, although the story tells nothing about any such), 
they stayed quietly at home, minding their business, 
and taking care of their little children. Most of the 
inhabitants, at all events, ran as fast as they could to 
the palace, and shoved, and pushed, and elbowed one 
another, in their eagerness to get near a balcony, on 
which Perseus showed himself, holding the embroi¬ 
dered wallet in his hand. 

On a platform, within full view of the balcony, sat 
the mighty King Polydectes, amid his evil counsellors, 
and with his flattering courtiers in a semicircle round 
about him. Monarch, counsellors, courtiers, and sub¬ 
jects, all gazed eagerly towards Perseus. 

“ Show us the head ! Show us the head ! ” shouted 
the people; and there was a fierceness in their cry as 
if they would tear Perseus to pieces, unless he should 
satisfy them with what he had to show. “ Show us 
the head of Medusa with the snaky locks! ” 

A feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youthful 
Perseus. 


48 


THE GORGON’S HEAD 


“ 0 King Polydectes,” cried he, “ and ye many 
people, I am very loath to show you the Gorgon's 
head! ” 

“ Ah, the villain and coward! ” yelled the people, 
more fiercely than before. “ He is making game of 
us! He has no Gorgon’s head ! Show us the head, 
if you have it, or we will take your own head for a 
football! ” 

The evil counsellors whispered bad advice in the 
king’s ear; the courtiers murmured, with one consent, 
that Perseus had shown disrespect to their royal lord 
and master; and the great King Polydectes himself 
waved his hand, and ordered him, with the stern, deep 
voice of authority, on his peril, to produce the head. 

“ Show me the Gorgon’s head, or I will cut off your 
own ! ” 

And Perseus sighed. 

“ This instant,” repeated Polydectes, “ or you die ! ” 

“ Behold it, then! ” cried Perseus, in a voice like 
the blast of a trumpet. 

And, suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid 
had time to wink before the wicked King Polydectes, 
his evil counsellors, and all his fierce subjects were no 
longer anything but the mere images of a monarch 
and his people. They were all fixed, forever, in the 
look and attitude of that moment! At the first 
glimpse of the terrible head of Medusa, they whitened 
into marble! And Perseus thrust the head back into 
his wallet, and went to tell his dear mother that she 
need no longer be afraid of the wicked King Poly, 
dectes. 



TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 


AFTER THE STORY. 

“ Was not that a very fine story ? ” asked Eustace. 

“ Oh yes, yes! ” cried Cowslip, clapping her hands. 
“And those funny old women, with only one eye 
amongst them! I never heard of anything so 
strange.” 

“ As to their one tooth, which they shifted about,” 
observed Primrose, “ there was nothing so very won¬ 
derful in that. I suppose it was a false tooth. But 
think of your turning Mercury into Quicksilver, and 
talking about his sister! You are too ridiculous ! ” 

“ And was she not his sister ? ” asked Eustace 
Bright. “ If I had thought of it sooner, I would 
have described her as a maiden lady, who kept a pet 
owl! ” 

“Well, at any rate,” said Primrose, “your story 
seems to have driven away the mist.” 

And, indeed, while the tale was going forward, the 
vapors had been quite exhaled from the landscape. A 
scene was now disclosed which the spectators might 
almost fancy as having been created since they had 
last looked in the direction where it lay. About half 
a mile distant, in the lap of the valley, now appeared 
a beautiful lake, which reflected a perfect image of its 
own wooded banks, and of the summits of the more 
distant hills. It gleamed in glassy tranquillity, with¬ 
out the trace of a winged breeze on any part of its 

VOL. IV 















50 


TANGLEWOOD PORCH 


bosom. Beyond its farther shore was Monument 
Mountain, in a recumbent position, stretching almost 
across the valley. Eustace Bright compared it to a 
huge, headless sphinx, wrapped in a Persian shawl; 
and, indeed, so rich and diversified was the autumnal 
foliage of its woods, that the simile of the shawl was 
by no means too high-colored for the reality. In the 
lower ground, between Tanglewood and the lake, the 
clumps of trees and borders of woodland were chiefly 
golden-leaved or dusky brown, as having suffered more 
from frost than the foliage on the hill-sides. 

Over all this scene there was a genial sunshine, in¬ 
termingled with a slight haze, which made it unspeak¬ 
ably soft and tender. Oh, what a day of Indian sum¬ 
mer was it going to be! The children snatched their 
baskets, and set forth, with hop, skip, and jump, and 
all sorts of frisks and gambols; while Cousin Eustace 
proved his fitness to preside over the party, by outdo¬ 
ing all their antics, and performing several new capers, 
which none of them could ever hope to imitate. Be¬ 
hind went a good old dog, whose name was Ben. He 
was one of the most respectable and kind-hearted of 
quadrupeds, and probably felt it to be his duty not to 
trust the children away from their parents without 
some better guardian than this feather-brained Eus* 
tace Bright. 



' THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 


SHADOW BROOK. 

INTRODUCTORY TO “THE GOLDEN TOUCH.” 

At noon, our juvenile party assembled in a dell, 
through the depths of which ran a little brook. The 
dell was narrow, and its steep sides, from the margin 
of the stream upward, were thickly set with trees, 
chiefly walnuts and chestnuts, among which grew a 
few oaks and maples. In the summer time, the shade 
of so many clustering branches, meeting and inter¬ 
mingling across the rivulet, was deep enough to pro¬ 
duce a noontide twilight. Hence came the name of 
Shadow Brook. But now, ever since autumn had 
crept into this secluded place, all the dark verdure 
was changed to gold, so that it really kindled up the 
dell, instead of shading it. The bright yellow leaves, 
even had it been a cloudy day, would have seemed to 
keep the sunlight among them; and enough of them 
had fallen to strew all the bed and margin of the 
brook with sunlight, too. Thus the shady nook, where 
summer had cooled herself, was now the sunniest spot 
anywhere to be found. 

The little brook ran along over its pathway of gold, 
s here pausing to form a pool, in which minnows were 
darting to and fro ; and then it hurried onward at a 


















52 


SHADOW BROOK 


swifter pace, as if in haste to reach the lake; and, for* 
getting to look whither it went, it tumbled over the 
root of a tree, which stretched quite across its current. 
You would have laughed to hear how noisily it bab¬ 
bled about this accident. And even after it had run 
onward, the brook still kept talking to itself, as if it 
were in a maze. It was wonder-smitten, I suppose, at 
finding its dark dell so illuminated, and at hearing 
the prattle and merriment of so many children. So 
it stole away as quickly as it could, and hid itself in 
the lake. 

In the dell of Shadow Brook, Eustace Bright and 
his little friends had eaten their dinner. They had 
brought plenty of good things from Tanglewood, in 
their baskets, and had spread them out on the stumps 
of trees, and on mossy trunks, and had feasted mer¬ 
rily, and made a very nice dinner indeed. After it 
was over, nobody felt like stirring. 

“We will rest ourselves here,” said several of the 
children, “ while Cousin Eustace tells us another of 
his pretty stories.” 

Cousin Eustace had a good right to be tired, as well 
as the children, for he had performed great feats on 
that memorable forenoon. Dandelion, Clover, Cow¬ 
slip, and Buttercup were almost persuaded that he had 
winged slippers, like those which the Nymphs gave 
Perseus; so often had the student shown himself at 
the tiptop of a nut-tree, when only a moment before 
he had been standing on the ground. And then, what 
showers of walnuts had he sent rattling down upon 
their heads, for their busy little hands to gather into 
the baskets! In short, he had been as active as a 
squirrel or a monkey, and now, flinging himself down 
on the yellow leaves, seemed inclined to take a little 
rest. 


SHADOW BROOK 


53 


But children have no mercy nor consideration for 
anybody’s weariness; and if you had but a single 
breath left, they would ask you to spend it in telling 
them a story. 

“ Cousin Eustace,” said Cowslip, “ that was a very 
nice story of the Gorgon’s Head. Do you think you 
could tell us another as good? ” 

“ Yes, child,” said Eustace, pulling the brim of his 
cap over his eyes, as if preparing for a nap. “I can 
tell you a dozen, as good or better, if I choose.” 

44 O Primrose and Periwinkle, do you hear what he 
says ? ” cried Cowslip, dancing with delight. 44 Cousin 
Eustace is going to tell us a dozen better stories than 
that about the Gorgon’s Head ! ” 

44 1 did not promise you even one, you foolish little 
Cowslip! ” said Eustace, half pettishly. 44 However, I 
suppose you must have it. This is the consequence of 
having earned a reputation ! I wish I were a great 
deal duller than I am, or that I had never shown half 
the bright qualities with which nature has endowed 
me; and then I might have my nap out, in peace and 
comfort! ” 

But Cousin Eustace, as I think I have hinted be¬ 
fore, was as fond of telling his stories as the children 
of hearing them. His mind was in a free and happy 
state, and took delight in its own activity, and scarcely 
required any external impulse to set it at work. 

How different is this spontaneous play of the intel¬ 
lect from the trained diligence of maturer years, when 
toil has perhaps grown easy by long habit, and the 
day’s work may have become essential to the day’s 
comfort, although the rest of the matter has bubbled 
away! This remark, however, is not meant for the 
children to hear. 


54 


SHADOW BROOK 


Without further solicitation, Eustace Bright pro¬ 
ceeded to tell the following really splendid story. It 
had come into his mind as he lay looking upward into 
the depths of a tree, and observing how the touch of 
Autumn had transmuted every one of its green leaves 
into what resembled the purest gold. And this 
change, which we have all of us witnessed, is as won¬ 
derful as anything that Eustace told about in the story 
of Midas. 



Once upon a time, there lived a very rich man, and 
a king besides, whose name was Midas; and he had 
a little daughter, whom nobody but myself ever heard 
of, and whose name I either never knew, or have en¬ 
tirely forgotten. So, because I love odd names for 
little girls, I choose to call her Marygold. 

This King Midas was fonder of gold than of any¬ 
thing else in the world. He valued his royal crown 
chiefly because it was composed of that precious metal. 
If he loved anything better, or half so well, it was the 
one little maiden who played so merrily around her 
father’s footstool. But the more Midas loved his 
daughter, the more did he desire and seek for wealth. 
He thought, foolish man! that the best thing he could 
possibly do for this dear child would be to bequeath 
her the immensest pile of yellow, glistening coin, that 
had ever been heaped together since the world was 
made. Thus, he gave all his thoughts and all his time 
to this one purpose. If ever he happened to gaze for 
an instant at the gold-tinted clouds of sunset, he wished 
that they were real gold, and that they could be 
squeezed safely into his strong box. When little 
Marygold ran to meet him, with a bunch of buttercups 
and dandelions, he used to say, “ Poh, poh, child! If 
these flowers were as golden as they look, they would 
be worth the plucking ! ” 

And yet, in his earlier days, before he was so en¬ 
tirely possessed of this insane desire for riches, King 













56 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


Midas had shown a great taste for flowers. He had 
planted a garden, in which grew the biggest and beau- 
tifullest and sweetest roses that any mortal ever saw 
or smelt. These roses were still growing in the gar¬ 
den, as large, as lovely, and as fragrant, as when 
Midas used to pass whole hours in gazing at them, 
and inhaling their perfume. But now, if he looked 
at them at all, it was only to calculate how much the 
garden would be worth if each of the innumerable rose- 
petals were a thin plate of gold. And though he once 
was fond of music (in spite of an idle story about his 
ears, which were said to resemble those of an ass), the 
only music for poor Midas, now, was the chink of one 
coin against another. 

At length (as people always grow more and morf 
foolish, unless they take care to grow wiser and wiser) 
Midas had got to be so exceedingly unreasonable, that 
he could scarcely bear to see or touch any object that 
was not gold. He made it his custom, therefore, to 
pass a large portion of every day in a dark and dreary 
apartment, under ground, at the basement of his pal¬ 
ace. It was here that he kept his wealth. To this 
dismal hole — for it was little better than a dun¬ 
geon — Midas betook himself, whenever he wanted 
to be particularly happy. Here, after carefully lock¬ 
ing the door, he would take a bag of gold coin, or a 
gold cup as big as a washbowl, or a heavy golden 
bar, or a peck-measure of gold-dust, and bring them 
from the obscure corners of the room into the one 
bright and narrow sunbeam that fell from the dun¬ 
geon-like window. He valued the sunbeam for no 
other reason but that his treasure would not shine 
without its help. And then would he reckon over the 
coins in the bag; toss up the bar, and catch it as it 


57 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 

came down ; sift tlie gold-dust through his fingers ; 
look at the funny image of his own face, as reflected 
in the burnished circumference of the cup ; and whis¬ 
per to himself, “ O Midas, rich King Midas, what a 
happy man art thou ! ” But it was laughable to see 
how the image of his face kept grinning at him, out 
of the polished surface of the cup. It seemed to be 
aware of his foolish behavior, and to have a naughty 
inclination to make fun of him. 

Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he 
was not yet quite so happy as he might be. The very 
tiptop of enjoyment would never be reached, unless 
the whole world were to become his treasure-room, and 
be filled with yellow metal which should be all hig 
own. 

Now, I need hardly remind such wise little people 
as you are, that in the old, old times, when King Mb 
das was alive, a great many things came to pass, 
which we should consider wonderful if they were to 
happen in our own day and country. And, on the 
other hand, a great many things take place nowadays, 
which seem not only wonderful to us, but at which the 
people of old times would have stared their eyes out. 
On the whole, I regard our own times as the strangest 
of the two ; but, however that may be, I must go on 
with my story. 

Midas was enjoying himself in his treasure-room, 
one day, as usual, when he perceived a shadow fall 
over the heaps of gold; and, looking suddenly up, 
what should he behold but the figure of a stranger, 
standing in the bright and narrow sunbeam ! It 
was a young man, with a cheerful and ruddy face. 
Whether it was that the imagination of King Midas 
threw a yellow tinge over everything, or whatever the 


58 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


cause might be, he could not help fancying that the 
smile with which the stranger regarded him had a 
kind of golden radiance in it. Certainly, although 
his figure intercepted the sunshine, there was now a 
brighter gleam upon all the piled-up treasures than be¬ 
fore. Even the remotest corners had their share of 
it, and were lighted up, when the stranger smiled, as 
with tips of flame and sparkles of fire. 

As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the 
key in the lock, and that no mortal strength could 
possibly break into his treasure-room, he, of course, 
concluded that his visitor must be something more 
than mortal. It is no matter about telling you who 
he was. In those days, when the earth was com¬ 
paratively a new affair, it was supposed to be often 
the resort of beings endowed with supernatural power, 
and who used to interest themselves in the joys and 
sorrows of men, women, and children, half playfully 
and half seriously. Midas had met such beings before 
now, and was not sorry to meet one of them again. 
The stranger’s aspect, indeed, was so good-humored 
and kindly, if not beneficent, that it would have been 
unreasonable to suspect him of intending any mischief. 
It was far more probable that he came to do Midas a 
favor. And what could that favor be, unless to multi¬ 
ply his heaps of treasure ? 

The stranger gazed about the room; and when his 
lustrous smile had glistened upon all the golden ob¬ 
jects that were there, he turned again to Midas. 

“ You are a wealthy man, friend Midas! ” he ob¬ 
served. “I doubt whether any other four walls, on 
earth, contain so much gold as you have contrived to 
pile up in this room.” 

“ I have done pretty well, — pretty well,” answered 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 59 

Midas, in a discontented tone. “ But, after all, it is 
but a trifle, when you consider that it has taken me 
my whole life to get it together. If one could live a 
thousand years, he might have time to grow rich ! ” 

“ What! ” exclaimed the stranger. “ Then you are 
not satisfied ? ” 

Midas shook his head. 

“ And pray what would satisfy you ? ” asked the 
stranger. “ Merely for the curiosity of the thing, I 
should be glad to know.” 

Midas paused and meditated. He felt a presenti¬ 
ment that this stranger, with such a golden lustre in 
his good-humored smile, had come hither with both 
the power and the purpose of gratifying his utmost 
wishes. Now, therefore, was the fortunate moment, 
when he had but to speak, and obtain whatever possi¬ 
ble, or seemingly impossible thing, it might come into 
his head to ask. So he thought, and thought, and 
thought, and heaped up one golden mountain upon 
another, in his imagination, without being able to im¬ 
agine them big enough. At last, a bright idea oc¬ 
curred to King Midas. It seemed really as bright as 
the glistening metal which he loved so much. 

Raising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger in 
the face. 

“ Well, Midas,” observed his visitor, “ I see that 
you have at length hit upon something that will satisfy 
you. Tell me your wish.” 

“ It is only this,” replied Midas. “ I am weary of 
collecting my treasures with so much trouble, and be¬ 
holding the heap so diminutive, after I have done my 
best. I wish everything that I touch to be changed 
to gold!” 

The stranger’s smile grew so very broad, that it 


60 THE GOLDEN TOUCH 

seemed to fill the room like an outburst of the sun, 
gleaming into a shadowy dell, where the yellow au¬ 
tumnal leaves — for so looked the lumps and particles 
of gold — lie strewn in the glow of light. 

“ The Golden Touch ! ” exclaimed he. “ You cer¬ 
tainly deserve credit, friend Midas, for striking out so 
brilliant a conception. But are you quite sure that 
this will satisfy you ? 

M How could it fail ? ” said Midas. 

“ And will you never regret the possession of it ? ” 

“ What could induce me ? ” asked Midas. “ I ask 
nothing else, to render me perfectly happy.” 

“ Be it as you wish, then,” replied the stranger, 
waving his hand in token of farewell. “ To-morrow, 
at sunrise, you will find yourself gifted with the 
Golden Touch.” 

The figure of the stranger then became exceedingly 
bright, and Midas involuntarily closed his eyes. On 
opening them again, he beheld only one yellow sun¬ 
beam in the room, and, all around him, the glistening 
of the precious metal which he had spent his life in 
hoarding up. 

Whether Midas slept as usual that night, the story 
does not say. Asleep or awake, however, his mind 
was probably in the state of a child’s, to whom a beau¬ 
tiful new plaything has been promised in the morning. 
At any rate, day had hardly peeped over the hills, 
when King Midas was broad awake, and, stretching 
his arms out of bed, began to touch the objects that 
were within reach. He was anxious to prove whether 
the Golden Touch had really come, according to the 
stranger’s promise. So he laid his finger on a chair 
by the bedside, and on various other things, but was 
grievously disappointed to perceive that they remained 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


61 


of exactly the same substance as before. Indeed, he 
felt very much afraid that he had only dreamed about 
the lustrous stranger, or else that the latter had been 
making game of him. And what a miserable affair 
would it be, if, after all his hopes, Midas must content 
himself with what little gold he could scrape together 
by ordinary means, instead of creating it by a touch! 

All this while, it was only the gray of the morning, 
with but a streak of brightness along the edge of the 
sky, where Midas could not see it. He lay in a very 
disconsolate mood, regretting the downfall of his 
hopes, and kept growing sadder and sadder, until the 
earliest sunbeam shone through the window, and 
gilded the ceiling over his head. It seemed to Midas 
that this bright yellow sunbeam was reflected in rather 
a singular way on the white covering of the bed. 
Looking more closely, what was his astonishment and 
delight, when he found that this linen fabric had 
been transmuted to what seemed a woven texture of 
the purest and brightest gold! The Golden Touch 
had come to him with the first sunbeam ! 

Midas started up, in a kind of joyful frenzy, and 
ran about the room, grasping at everything that hap¬ 
pened to be in his way. He seized one of the bed¬ 
posts, and it became immediately a fluted golden 
pillar. He pulled aside a window-curtain, in order to 
admit a clear spectacle of the wonders which he was 
performing; and the tassel grew heavy in his hand, 
— a mass of gold. He took up a book from the table. 
At his first touch, it assumed the appearance of such a 
splendidly bound and gilt-edged volume as one often 
meets with, nowadays; but, on running his fingers 
through the leaves, behold! it was a bundle of thin 
golden plates, in which all the wisdom of the book 


62 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


had grown illegible. He hurriedly put on his clothes, 
and was enraptured to see himself in a magnificent 
suit of gold cloth, which retained its flexibility and 
softness, although it burdened him a little with its 
weight. He drew out his handkerchief, which little 
Marygold had hemmed for him. That was likewise 
gold, with the dear child’s neat and pretty stitches 
running all along the border, in gold thread! 

Somehow or other, this last transformation did not 
quite please King Midas. He would rather that his 
little daughter’s handiwork should have remained just 
the same as when she climbed his knee and put it into 
his hand. 

But it was not worth while to vex himself about a 
trifle. Midas now took his spectacles from his pocket, 
and put them on his nose, in order that he might see 
more distinctly what he was about. In those days, 
spectacles for common people had not been invented, 
but were already worn by kings; else, how could 
Midas have had any? To his great perplexity, how¬ 
ever, excellent as the glasses were, he discovered that 
he could not possibly see through them. But this was 
the most natural thing in the world; for, on taking 
them off, the transparent crystals turned out to be 
plates of yellow metal, and, of course, were worthless 
as spectacles, though valuable as gold. It struck 
Midas as rather inconvenient that, with all his wealth, 
he could never again be rich enough to own a pair of 
serviceable spectacles. 

“It is no great matter, nevertheless,” said he to 
himself, very philosophically. “We cannot expect 
any great good, without its being accompanied with 
some small inconvenience. The Golden Touch is 
worth the sacrifice of a pair of spectacles, at least, if 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


63 


toot of one’s very eyesight. My own eyes will serve 
for ordinary purposes, and little Marygold will soon 
be old enough to read to me.” 

Wise King Midas was so exalted by his good for 
tune, that the palace seemed not sufficiently spacious 
to contain him. He therefore went down stairs, and 
smiled, on observing that the balustrade of the stair¬ 
case became a bar of burnished gold, as his hand 
passed over it, in his descent. He lifted the door- 
latch (it was brass only a moment ago, but golden 
when his fingers quitted it), and emerged into the 
garden. Here, as it happened, he found a great num¬ 
ber of beautiful roses in full bloom, and others in all 
the stages of lovely bud and blossom. Very delicious 
was their fragrance in the morning breeze. Their 
delicate blush was one of the fairest sights in the 
world; so gentle, so modest, and so full of sweet 
tranquillity, did these roses seem to be. 

But Midas knew a way to make them far more 
precious, according to his way of thinking, than roses 
had ever been before. So he took great pains in 
going from bush to bush, and exercised his magic 
touch most indefatigably; until every individual 
flower and bud, and even the worms at the heart 
of some of them, were changed to gold. By the 
time this good work was completed, King Midas 
was summoned to breakfast; and as the morning air 
had given him an excellent appetite, he made haste 
back to the palace. 

What was usually a king’s breakfast in the days ol 
Midas, I really do not know, and cannot stop now to 
investigate. To the best of my belief, however, on 
this particular morning, the breakfast consisted of hot 
cak^s, some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, 


64 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


fresh boiled eggs, and coffee, for King Midas himself, 
and a bowl of bread and milk for his daughter Mary- 
gold. At all events, this is a breakfast fit to set be¬ 
fore a king; and, whether he had it or not, King 
Midas could not have had a better. 

Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance. 
Her father ordered her to be called, and, seating him¬ 
self at table, awaited the child’s coming, in order to 
begin his own breakfast. To do Midas justice, he 
really loved his daughter, and loved her so much the 
more this morning, on account of the good fortune 
which had befallen him. It was not a great while be¬ 
fore he heard her coming along the passageway cry¬ 
ing bitterly. This circumstance surprised him, because 
Marygold was one of the cheerfullest little people 
whom you would see in a summer’s day, and hardly 
shed a thimbleful of tears in a twelvemonth. When 
Midas heard her sobs, he determined to put little Ma¬ 
rygold into better spirits, by an agreeable surprise; 
so, leaning across the table, he touched his daughter’s 
bowl (which was a China one, with pretty figures all 
around it), and transmuted it to gleaming gold. 

Meanwhile, Marygold slowly and disconsolately 
opened the door, and showed herself with her apron 
at her eyes, still sobbing as if her heart would break. 

“ How now, my little lady ! ” cried Midas. “ Pray 
what is the matter with you, this bright morning ? ” 

Marygold, without taking the apron from her eyes, 
held out her hand, in which was one of the roses which 
Milas had so recently transmuted. 

“ Beautiful! ” exclaimed her father. “ And what 
is there in this magnificent golden rose to make you 
cry?” 

41 Ah, dear father! ” answered the child, as well as 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


65 


her sobs would let her ; “ it is not beautiful, but the 
ugliest flower that ever grew! As soon as I was dressed 
I ran into the garden to gather some roses for you; 
because I know you like them, and like them the bet¬ 
ter when gathered by your little daughter. But, oh 
dear, dear me! What do you think has happened? 
Such a misfortune ! All the beautiful roses, that 
smelled so sweetly and had so many lovely blushes, 
are blighted and spoilt! They are grown quite yel¬ 
low, as you see this one, and have no longer any fra¬ 
grance ! W hat can have been the matter with them ? ” 

“ Poh, my dear little girl, — pray don’t cry about 
it! ” said Midas, who was ashamed to confess that he 
himself had wrought the change which so greatly af¬ 
flicted her. “ Sit down and eat your bread and milk ! 
You will find it easy enough to exchange a golden 
rose like that (which will last hundreds of years) for 
an ordinary one which would wither in a day.” 

“ I don’t care for such roses as this! ” cried Mary- 
gold, tossing it contemptuously away. “ It has no 
smell, and the hard petals prick my nose ! ” 

The child now sat down to table, but was so occu¬ 
pied with her grief for the blighted roses that she did 
not even notice the wonderful transmutation of her 
China bowl. Perhaps this was all the better; for 
Marygold was accustomed to take pleasure in looking 
at the queer figures, and strange trees and houses, that 
were painted on the circumference of the bowl; and 
these ornaments were now entirely lost in the yellow 
hue of the metal. 

Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee, 
and, as a matter of course, the coffee-pot, whatever 
metal it may have been when he took it up, was gold 
when he set it down. lie thought to himself, that it 

vox,, iv. 5 


66 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 

was rather an extravagant style of splendor, in a king 
of his simple habits, to breakfast off a service of gold, 
and began to be puzzled with the difficulty of keeping 
his treasures safe. The cupboard and the kitchen 
would no longer be a secure place of deposit for arti¬ 
cles so valuable as golden bowls and coffee-pots. 

Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee 
to his lips, and, sipping it, was astonished to perceive 
that, the instant his lips touched the liquid, it became 
molten gold, and, the next moment, hardened into a 
lump! 

“ Ha ! ” exclaimed Midas, rather aghast. 

“ What is the matter, father ? ” asked little Mary- 
gold, gazing at him, with the tears still standing in her 
eyes. 

“ Nothing, child, nothing! ” said Midas. “ Eat your 
milk, before it gets quite cold.” 

He took one of the nice little trouts on his plate, 
and, by way of experiment, touched its tail with his 
finger. To his horror, it was immediately transmuted 
from an admirably fried brook-trout into a gold-fish, 
though not one of those gold-fishes which people often 
keep in glass globes, as ornaments for the parlor. 
No ; but it was really a metallic fish, and looked as if 
it had been very cunningly made by the nicest gold¬ 
smith in the world. Its little bones were now golden 
wires; its fins and tail were thin plates of gold ; and 
there were the marks of the fork in it, and all the de¬ 
licate, frothy appearance of a nicely fried fish, exactly 
imitated in metal. A very pretty piece of work, as 
you may suppose ; only King Midas, just at that mo¬ 
ment, would much rather have had a real trout in his 
dish than this elaborate and valuable imitation of one. 

“ I don’t quite see,” thought he to himself, “ how I 
un to get any breakfast! ” 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


67 


He took one of the smoking-hot cakes, and had 
scarcely broken it, when, to his cruel mortification, 
though, a moment before, it had been of the whitest 
wheat, it assumed the yellow hue of Indian meal. 
To say the truth, if it had really been a hot Indian 
cake, Midas would have prized it a good deal more 
than he now did, when its solidity and increased 
weight made him too bitterly sensible that it was gold. 
Almost in despair, he helped himself to a boiled egg, 
which immediately underwent a change similar to 
those of the trout and the cake. The egg, indeed, 
might have been mistaken for one of those which 
the famous goose, in the story-book, was in the habit 
of laying; but King Midas was the only goose that 
had had anything to do with the matter. 

“Well, this is a quandary! ” thought he, leaning 
back in his chair, and looking quite enviously at little 
Marygold, who was now eating her bread and milk 
with great satisfaction. “ Such a costly breakfast be¬ 
fore me, and nothing that can be eaten ! ” 

Hoping that, by dint of great dispatch, he might 
avoid what he now felt to be a considerable inconven¬ 
ience, King Midas next snatched a hot potato, and at¬ 
tempted to cram it into his mouth, and swallow it in a 
hurry. But the Golden Touch was too nimble for him. 
He found his mouth full, not of mealy potato, but of 
solid metal, which so burnt his tongue that he roared 
aloud, and, jumping up from the table, began to dance 
and stamp about the room, both with pain and affright. 

“ Father, dear father! ” cried little Marygold, who 
was a very affectionate child, “pray what is the matter? 
Have you burnt your mouth ? ” 

“ Ah, dear child,” groaned Midas, dolefully, “ 3 
don’t know what is to become of your poor father I ” 


68 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


And, truly, my dear little folks, did you ever hear of 
such a pitiable case in all your lives ? Here was liter¬ 
ally the richest breakfast that could be set before a 
king, and its very richness made it absolutely good 
for nothing. The poorest laborer, sitting down to his 
crust of bread and cup of water, was far better off 
than King Midas, whose delicate food was really worth 
its weight in gold. And what was to be done ? Al¬ 
ready, at breakfast, Midas was excessively hungry. 
Would he be less so by dinner-time ? And how rav¬ 
enous would be his appetite for supper, which must 
undoubtedly consist of the same sort of indigestible 
dishes as those now before him ! How many days, 
think you, would he survive a continuance of this rich 
fare ? 

These reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that 
he began to doubt whether, after all, riches are the one 
desirable thing in the world, or even the most desir¬ 
able. But this was only a passing thought. So fas¬ 
cinated was Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal, 
that he would still have refused to give up the Golden 
Touch for so paltry a consideration as a breakfast. 
Just imagine what a price for one meal’s victuals ! It 
would have been the same as paying millions and mill¬ 
ions of money (and as many millions more as would 
take forever to reckon up) for some fried trout, an 
egg, a potato, a hot cake, and a cup of coffee ! 

“ It would be quite too dear,” thought Midas. 

Nevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the per* 
plexity of his situation, that he again groaned aloud, 
and very grievously too. Our pretty Marygold could 
endure it no longer. She sat, a moment, gazing at 
her father, and trying, with all the might of her little 
wits, to find out what was the matter with him. Then, 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


69 


with a sweet and sorrowful impulse to comfort him, she 
started from her chair, and, running to Midas, threw 
her arms affectionately about his knees. He bent down 
and kissed her. He felt that his little daughter’s love 
was worth a thousand times more than he had gained 
by the Golden Touch. 

“ My precious, precious Marygold ! ” cried he. 

But Marygold made no answer. 

Alas, what had he done ? How fatal was the gift 
which the stranger bestowed ! The moment the lips 
of Midas touched Marygold’s forehead, a change had 
taken place. Her sweet, rosy face, so full of affection 
as it had been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with 
yellow tear-drops congealing on her cheeks. Her 
beautiful brown ringlets took the same tint. Her soft 
and tender little form grew hard and inflexible within 
her father’s encircling arms. Oh, terrible misfortune ! 
The victim of his insatiable desire for wealth, little 
Marygold was a human child no longer, but a golden 
statue! 

Yes, there she was, with the questioning look of love, 
grief, and pity, hardened into her face. It was the 
prettiest and most woful sight that ever mortal saw. 
All the features and tokens of Marygold were there; 
even the beloved little dimple remained in her golden 
chin. But, the more perfect was the resemblance, the 
greater was the father’s agony at beholding this golden 
image, which was all that was left him of a daughter. 
It had been a favorite phrase of Midas, whenever he 
felt particularly fond of the child, to say that she was 
worth her weight in gold. And now the phrase had 
become literally true. And now, at last, when it was 
too late, he felt how infinitely a warm and tender heart, 
that loved him, exceeded in value all the wealth that 
could be piled up betwixt the earth and sky l 


70 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


It would be too sad a story, if I were to tell you how 
Midas, in the fulness of all his gratified desires, began 
to wring his hands and bemoan himself; and how he 
could neither bear to look at Marygold, nor yet to look 
away from her. Except when his eyes were fixed on 
the image, he could not possibly believe that she was 
changed to gold. But, stealing another glance, there 
was the precious little figure, with a yellow tear-drop 
on its yellow cheek, and a look so piteous and tender, 
that it seemed as if that very expression must needs 
soften the gold, and make it flesh again. This, how¬ 
ever, could not be. So Midas had only to wring his 
hands, and to wish that he were the poorest man in 
the wide world, if the loss of all his wealth might 
bring back the faintest rose-color to his dear child’s 
face. 

While he was in this tumult of despair, he suddenly 
beheld a stranger standing near the door. Midas bent 
down his head, without speaking; for he recognized 
the same figure which had appeared to him, the day 
before, in the treasure-room, and had bestowed on him 
this disastrous faculty of the Golden Touch. The 
stranger’s countenance still wore a smile, which seemed 
to shed a yellow lustre all about the room, and gleamed 
on little Marygold’s image, and on the other objects 
that had been transmuted by the touch of Midas. 

“ Well, friend Midas,” said the stranger, “ pray how 
do you succeed with the Golden Touch ? ” 

Midas shook his head. 

“ I am very miserable,” said he. 

“ Very miserable, indeed ! ” exclaimed the stranger. 
“ And how happens that ? Have I not faithfully kept 
my promise with you ? Have you not everything that 
your heart desired ? ” 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 71 

“ Gold is not everything,” answered Midas. “ And 
I have lost all that my heart really cared for.” 

“ Ah! So you have made a discovery, since yes¬ 
terday ? ” observed the stranger. “ Let us see, then. 
Which of these two things do you think is really worth 
the most, — the gift of the Golden Touch, or one cup 
of clear cold water ? ” 

“ O blessed water ! ” exclaimed Midas. “ It will 
never moisten my parched throat again ! ” 

“ The Golden Touch,” continued the stranger, “ or 
a crust of bread ? ” 

“ A piece of bread,” answered Midas, “ is worth all 
the gold on earth! ” 

“ The Golden Touch,” asked the stranger, “ or your 
own little Marygold, warm, soft, and loving as she was 
an hour ago ? ” 

“ Oh my child, my dear child! ” cried poor Midas, 
wringing his hands. “ I would not have given that 
one small dimple in her chin for the power of chang¬ 
ing this whole big earth into a solid lump of gold! ” 

“ You are wiser than you were, King Midas! ” said 
the stranger, looking seriously at him. “ Your own 
heart, I perceive, has not been entirely changed from 
flesh to gold. Were it so, your case would indeed be 
desperate. But you appear to be still capable of under¬ 
standing that the commonest things, such as lie within 
everybody’s grasp, are more valuable than the riches 
which so many mortals sigh and struggle after. Tell 
me, now, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself of this 
Golden Touch ? ” 

“ It is hateful to me ! ” replied Midas. 

A fly settled on his nose, but immediately fell to the 
floor ; for it, too, had become gold. Midas shuddered. 

“ Go, then,” said the stranger, “ and plunge into the 


72 THE GOLDEN TOUCH 

river that glides past the bottom of your garden.. Take 
likewise a vase of the same water, and sprinkle it over 
any object that you may desire to change back again 
from gold into its former substance. If you do this in 
earnestness and sincerity, it may possibly repair the 
mischief which your avarice has occasioned.” 

King Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his 
head, the lustrous stranger had vanished. 

You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in 
snatching up a great earthen pitcher (but, alas me! 
it was no longer earthen after he touched it), and has¬ 
tening to the river-side. As he scampered along, and 
forced his way through the shrubbery, it was positively 
marvellous to see how the foliage turned yellow behind 
him, as if the autumn had been there, and nowhere 
else. On reaching the river’s brink, he plunged head¬ 
long in, without waiting so much as to pull off his 
shoes. 

“ Poof! poof! poof! ” snorted King Midas, as his 
head emerged out of the water. 44 Well; this is really 
a refreshing bath, and I think it must have quite 
washed away the Golden Touch. And now for filling 
my pitcher! ” 

As he dipped the pitcher into the water, it glad¬ 
dened his very heart to see it change from gold into 
the same good, honest earthen vessel which it had 
been before he touched it. He was conscious, also, of 
a change within himself. A cold, hard, and heavy 
weight seemed to have gone out of his bosom. No 
doubt, his heart had been gradually losing its human 
substance, and transmuting itself into insensible metal, 
but had now softened back again into flesh. Perceiv¬ 
ing a violet, that grew on the bank of the river, Midas 
touched it with his finger, and was overjoyed to find 


THE GOLDEN TOUCH 


73 


that the delicate flower retained its purple iiue, in¬ 
stead of undergoing a yellow blight. The curse of 
the Golden Touch had, therefore, really been removed 
from him. 

King Midas hastened back to the palace; and, I 
suppose, the servants knew not what to make of it 
when they saw their royal master so carefully bringing 
home an earthen pitcher of water. But that water, 
which was to undo all the mischief that his folly had 
wrought, was more precious to Midas than an ocean of 
molten gold could have been. The first thing he did, 
as you need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by hand 
fuls over the golden figure of little Marygold. 

No sooner did it fall on her than you would have 
laughed to see how the rosy color came back to the 
dear child’s cheek! and how she began to sneeze and 
sputter! — and how astonished she was to find her¬ 
self dripping wet, and her father still throwing more 
water over her! 

“ Pray do not, dear father ! ” cried she. “ See how 
you have wet my nice frock, which I put on only this 
morning! ” 

For Marygold did not know that she had been a lit¬ 
tle golden statue ; nor could she remember anything 
that had happened since the moment when she ran 
with outstretched arms to comfort poor King Midas. 

Her father did not think it necessary to tell his be¬ 
loved child how very foolish he had been, but contented 
himself with showing how much wiser he had now 
grown. For this purpose, he led little Marygold into 
the garden, where he sprinkled all the remainder of the 
water over the rose-bushes, and with such good effect 
that above five thousand roses recovered their beautiful 
bloom. There were two circumstances, however, which, 


74 THE GOLDEN TOUCH 

as long as he lived, used to put King Midas in mind 
of the Golden Touch. One was, that the sands of the 
river sparkled like gold ; the other, that little Mary- 
gold’s hair had now a golden tinge, which he had never 
observed in it before she had been transmuted by the 
effect of his kiss. This change of hue was really an 
improvement, and made Marygold’s hair richer than 
in her babyhood. 

When King Midas had grown quite an old man, and 
used to trot Marygold’s children on his knee, he was 
fond of telling them this marvellous story, pretty much 
as I have now told it to you. And then would he 
stroke their glossy ringlets, and tell them that their 
hair, likewise, had a rich shade of gold, which they had 
inherited from their mother. 

“ And to tell you the truth, my precious little folks,” 
quoth King Midas, diligently trotting the children all 
the while, “ ever since that morning, I have hated the 
very sight of all other gold, save this! ” 



AFTER THE STORY. 

44 Well, children,” inquired Eustace, who was very 
fond of eliciting a definite opinion from his auditors, 
44 did you ever, in all your lives, listen to a better story 
than this of 4 The Golden Touch ’ ? ” 

44 Why, as to the story of King Midas,” said saucy 
Primrose, 44 it was a famous one thousands of years be¬ 
fore Mr. Eustace Bright came into the world, and will 
continue to be so as long after he quits it. But some 
people have what we may call 4 The Leaden Touch,’ 
and make everything dull and heavy that they lay 
their fingers upon.” 

44 You are a smart child, Primrose, to be not yet in 
your teens,” said Eustace, taken rather aback by the 
piquancy of her criticism. 44 But you well know, in 
your naughty little heart, that I have burnished the 
old gold of Midas all over anew, and have made it 
shine as it never shone before. And then that figure 
of Marygold ! Do you perceive no nice workmanship 
in that? And how finely I have brought out and 
deepened the moral! What say you, Sweet Fern, 
Dandelion, Clover, Periwinkle ? Would any of you, 
after hearing this story, be so foolish as to desire the 
faculty of changing things to gold ? ” 

44 1 should like,” said Periwinkle, a girl of ten, 44 to 
have the power of turning everything to gold with my 
right forefinger; but, with my left forefinger, I should 







76 SHADOW BROOK 

want the power of changing it back again, if the first, 
change did not please me. And I know what I would 
do, this very afternoon! ” 

“ Pray tell me,” said Eustace. 

“ Why,” answered Periwinkle, “ I vould touch every 
one of these golden leaves on the trees with my left 
forefinger, and make them all green again ; so that we 
might have the summer back at once, with no ugly 
winter in the mean time.” 

“ O Periwinkle! ” cried Eustace Bright, “ there you 
are wrong, and would do a great deal of mischief. 
Were I Midas, I would make nothing else but just 
such golden days as these over and over again, all the 
year throughout. My best thoughts always come a 
little too late. Why did not I tell you how old King 
Midas came to America, and changed the dusky au¬ 
tumn, such as it is in other countries, into the bur¬ 
nished beauty which it here puts on ? He gilded the 
leaves of the great volume of Nature.” 

“ Cousin Eustace,” said Sweet Fern, a good little 
boy, who was always making particular inquiries about 
the precise height of giants and the littleness of fai¬ 
ries, “ how big was Marygold, and how much did she 
weigh after she was turned to gold ? ” 

“ She was about as tall as you are,” replied Eus¬ 
tace, “ and, as gold is very heavy, she weighed at least 
two thousand pounds, and might have been coined into 
thirty or forty thousand gold dollars. I wish Prim¬ 
rose were worth half as much. Come, little people, 
let us clamber out of the dell, and look about us.” 

They did so. The sun was now an hour or two be¬ 
yond its noontide mark, and filled the great hollow of 
the valley with its western radiance, so that it seemed 
to be brimming with mellow light, and to spill it over 


SHADOW BROOK 


77 


the surrounding hill-sides, like golden wine out of a 
bowl. It was such a day that you could not help say¬ 
ing of it, “ There never was such a day before ! ” al¬ 
though yesterday was just such a day, and to-morrow 
will be just such another. Ah, but there are very few 
of them in a twelvemonth's circle ! It is a remark¬ 
able peculiarity of these October days, that each of 
them seems to occupy a great deal of space, although 
the sun rises rather tardily at that season of the year, 
and goes to bed, as little children ought, at sober six 
o’clock, or even earlier. We cannot, therefore, call 
the days long; but they appear, somehow or other, to 
make up for their shortness by their breadth ; and 
when the cool night comes, we are conscious of having 
enjoyed a big armful of life, since morning. 

“ Come, children, come! ” cried Eustace Bright. 
“ More nuts, more nuts, more nuts! Fill all your bas¬ 
kets ; and, at Christmas time, I will crack them for 
you, and tell you beautiful stories ! ” 

So away they went; all of them in excellent spirits, 
except little Dandelion, who, I am sorry to tell you. 
had been sitting on a chestnut-bur, and was stuck as 
full as a pincushion of its prickles. Dear me, how un¬ 
comfortably he must have felt! 



THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 


TANGLEWOOD PLAY-KOOM. 

INTRODUCTORY TO (< THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN-'* 

The golden days of October passed away, as so 
many other Octobers have, and brown November like¬ 
wise, and the greater part of chill December, too. At 
last came merry Christmas, and Eustace Bright along 
with it, making it all the merrier by his presence. 
And, the day after his arrival from college, there came 
a mighty snow-storm. Up to this time, the winter 
had held back, and had given us a good many mild 
days, which were like smiles upon its wrinkled visage. 
The grass had kept itself green, in sheltered places, 
such as the nooks of southern hill-slopes, and along 
the lee of the stone fences. It was but a week or two 
ago, and since the beginning of the month, that the 
children had found a dandelion in bloom, on the mar¬ 
gin of Shadow Brook, where it glides out of the dell. 

But no more green grass and dandelions now. This 
was such a snow-storm! Twenty miles of it might 
have been visible at once, between the windows of 
Tangle wood and the dome of Taconic, had it been 
possible to see so far among the eddying drifts that 
whitened all the atmosphere. It seemed as if the 
hills were giants, and were flinging monstrous hand¬ 
fuls of snow at one another, in their enormous sport. 










TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM 79 

So thick were the fluttering snow-flakes, that even the 
trees, midway down the valley, were hidden by them 
the greater part of the time. Sometimes, it is true, 
the little prisoners of Tangle wood could discern a dim 
outline of Monument Mountain, and the smooth white¬ 
ness of the frozen lake at its base, and the black or 
gray tracts of woodland in the nearer landscape. But 
these were merely peeps through the tempest. 

Nevertheless, the children rejoiced greatly in the 
snow-storm. They had already made acquaintance 
with it, by tumbling heels over head into its highest 
drifts, and flinging snow at one another, as we have 
just fancied the Berkshire mountains to be doing. 
And now they had come back to their spacious play¬ 
room, which was as big as the great drawing-room, 
and was lumbered with all sorts of playthings, large 
and small. The biggest was a rocking-horse, that 
looked like a real pony; and there was a whole fam¬ 
ily of wooden, waxen, plaster, and china dolls, besides 
rag-babies; and blocks enough to build Bunker Hill 
Monument, and nine-pins, and balls, and humming- 
tops, and battledores, and grace-sticks, and skipping- 
ropes, and more of such valuable property than I 
could tell of in a printed page. But the children 
liked the snow-storm better than them all. It sug¬ 
gested so many brisk enjoyments for to-morrow, and 
all the remainder of the winter. The sleigh-ride; the 
slides down hill into the valley ; the snow-images that 
were to be shaped out; the snow-fortresses that were 
to be built; and the snowballing to be carried on ! 

So the little folks blessed the snow-storm, and were 
glad to see it come thicker and thicker, and watched 
hopefully the long drift that was piling itself up in 
the avenue, and was already higher than any of their 
aeads. 


80 TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM 


“Why, we shall be blocked up till spring!” cried 
they, with the hugest delight. “ What a pity that the 
house is too high to be quite covered up! The little 
red house, down yonder, will be buried up to its 
eaves.” 

“You silly children, what do you want of more 
snow ? ” asked Eustace, who, tired of some novel that 
he was skimming through, had strolled into the play¬ 
room. “It has done mischief enough already, by 
spoiling the only skating that I could hope for through 
the winter. We shall see nothing more of the lake 
till April; and this was to have been my first day 
upon it! Don’t you pity me, Primrose ? ” 

“ Oh, to be sure! ” answered Primrose, laughing, 
“ But, for your comfort, we will listen to another of 
your old stories, such as you told us under the porch, 
and down in the hollow, by Shadow Brook. Perhaps 
I shall like them better now, when there is nothing to 
do, than while there were nuts to be gathered, and 
beautiful weather to enjoy.” 

Hereupon, Periwinkle, Clover, Sweet Fern, and as 
many others of the little fraternity and cousinhood 
as were still at Tangle wood, gathered about Eustace, 
and earnestly besought him for a story. The student 
yawned, stretched himself, and then, to the vast ad¬ 
miration of the small people, skipped three times back 
and forth over the top of a chair, in order, as he ex¬ 
plained to them, to set his wits in motion. 

“ Well, well, children,” said he, after these prelimi¬ 
naries, “ since you insist, and Primrose has set her 
heart upon it, I will see what can be done for you. 
And, that you may know what happy days there were 
before snow-storms came into fashion, I will tell you a 
story of the oldest of all old times, when the world 


TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM 81 


was as new as Sweet Fern’s bran-new humming-top. 
There was then but one season in the year, and that 
was the delightful summer; and but one age for mor¬ 
tals, and that was childhood.” 

“ I never heard of that before,” said Primrose. 

“ Of course, you never did,” answered Eustace. 
“ It shall be a story of what nobody but myself ever 
dreamed of, — a Paradise of children, — and how, by 
the naughtiness of just such a little imp as Primrose 
here, it all came to nothing.” 

So Eustace Bright sat down in the chair which he 
had just been skipping over, took Cowslip upon his 
knee, ordered silence throughout the auditory, and be¬ 
gan a story about a sad naughty child, whose name 
was Pandora, and about her playfellow Epimetheus. 
You may read it, word for word, in the pages that 
come next. 

TOL. iv. 



Long, long ago, when this old world was in its 
tender infancy, there was a child, named Epimetheus, 
who never had either father or mother; and, that he 
might not be lonely, another child, fatherless and 
motherless like himself, was sent from a far country, 
to live with him, and be his playfellow and helpmate. 
Her name was Pandora. 

The first thing that Pandora saw, when she entered 
the cottage where Epimetheus dwelt, was a great box. 
And almost the first question which she put to him, 
after crossing the threshold, was this, — 

“ Epimetheus, what have you in that box ? ” 

44 My dear little Pandora,” answered Epimetheus, 
“ that is a secret, and you must be kind enough not to 
ask any questions about it. The box was left here to 
be kept safely, and I do not myself know what it com 
tains.” 

“ But who gave it to you ? ” asked Pandora. “ And 
where did it come from ? ” 

“ That is a secret, too,” replied Epimetheus. 

“ How provoking ! ” exclaimed Pandora, pouting 
her lip. “ I wish the great ugly box were out of the 
way! ” 

“ Oh come, don’t think of it any more,” cried Epime¬ 
theus. “ Let us run out of doors, and have some nice 
play with the other children.” 

It is thousands of years since Epimetheus and Pan¬ 
dora were alive; and the world, nowadays, is a very 





THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 83 

different sort of thing from what it was in their time. 
Then, everybody was a child. There needed no 
fathers and mothers to take care of the children; be¬ 
cause there was no danger, nor trouble of any kind, 
and no clothes to be mended, and there was always 
plenty to eat and drink. Whenever a child wanted 
his dinner, he found it growing on a tree; and, if he 
looked at the tree in the morning, he could see the ex¬ 
panding blossom of that night’s supper; or, at even¬ 
tide, he saw the tender bud of to-morrow’s breakfast. 
It was a very pleasant life indeed. No labor to be 
done, no tasks to be studied; nothing but sports and 
dances, and sweet voices of children talking, or carol¬ 
ling like birds, or gushing out in merry laughter, 
throughout the livelong day. 

What was most wonderful of all, the children never 
quarrelled among themselves; neither had they any 
crying fits; nor, since time first began, had a single 
one of these little mortals ever gone apart into a cor¬ 
ner, and sulked. Oh, what a good time was that to be 
alive in ? The truth is, those ugly little winged mon¬ 
sters, called Troubles, which are now almost as nu¬ 
merous as mosquitoes, had never yet been seen on the 
earth. It is probable that the very greatest dis¬ 
quietude which a child had ever experienced was Pan¬ 
dora’s vexation at not being able to discover the secret 
of the mysterious box. 

This was at first only the faint shadow of a Trouble; 
but, every day, it grew more and more substantial, 
until, before a great while, the cottage of Epimetheus 
and Pandora was less sunshiny than those of the other 
children. 

“ Whence can the box have come ? ” Pandora con¬ 
tinually kept saying to herself and to Epimetheus, 

•* And what in the world can be inside of it ? ” 


84 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


“ Always talking about this box! ” said Epimetheus, 
at last; for he had grown extremely tired of the sub¬ 
ject. “ I wish, dear Pandora, you would try to talk 
of something else. Come, let us go and gather some 
ripe figs, and eat them under the trees, for our supper. 
And I know a vine that has the sweetest and juiciest 
grapes you ever tasted.” 

“ Always talking about grapes and figs ! ” cried 
Pandora, pettishly. 

“Well, then,” said Epimetheus, who was a very 
good-tempered child, like a multitude of children in 
those days, “ let us run out and have a merry time 
with our playmates.” 

“I am tired of merry times, and don’t care if 1 
never have any more! ” answered our pettish little 
Pandora. “ And, besides, I never do have any. This 
ugly box! I am so taken up with thinking about it 
all the time. I insist upon your telling me what is 
inside of it.” 

“ As I have already said, fifty times over, I do not 
know! ” replied Epimetheus, getting a little vexed. 
“ How, then, can I tell you what is inside ? ” 

“ You might open it,” said Pandora, looking side 
ways at Epimetheus, “ and then we could see for our¬ 
selves.” 

“ Pandora, what are you thinking of ? ” exclaimed 
Epimetheus. 

And his face expressed so much horror at the idea 
of looking into a box, which had been confided to him 
on the condition of his never opening it, that Pandora 
thought it best not to suggest it any more. Still, how¬ 
ever, she could not help thinking and talking about 
the box. 

“ At least,” said she, “ you can tell me how it came 
here.” 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 85 


“It was left at the door,” replied Epimetheus, 
“ just before you came, by a person who looked very 
smiling and intelligent, and who could hardly forbear 
laughing as he put it down. He was dressed in an 
odd kind of a cloak, and had on a cap that seemed to 
be made partly of feathers, so that it looked almost as 
if it had wings.” 

“ What sort of a staff had he ? ” asked Pandora. 

“Oh, the most curious staff you ever saw ! ” cried 
Epimetheus. “It was like two serpents twisting 
around a stick, and was carved so naturally that I, at 
first, thought the serpents were alive.” 

“I know him,” said Pandora, thoughtfully. “No¬ 
body else has such a staff. It was Quicksilver; and 
he brought me hither, as well as the box. No doubt 
he intended it for me ; and, most probably, it contains 
pretty dresses for me to wear, or toys for you and me 
to play with, or something very nice for us both to 
eat!” 

“ Perhaps so,” answered Epimetheus, turning away. 
“ But until Quicksilver comes back and tells us so, we 
have neither of us any right to lift the lid of the box.” 

“ What a dull boy he is! ” muttered Pandora, as 
Epimetheus left the cottage. “ I do wish he had a 
little more enterprise ! ” 

For the first time since her arrival, Epimetheus had 
gone out without asking Pandora to accompany him. 
He went to gather figs and grapes by himself, or to 
seek whatever amusement he could find, in other soci¬ 
ety than his little playfellow’s. He was tired to death 
of hearing about the box, and heartily wished that 
Quicksilver, or whatever was the messenger’s name, 
had left it at some other child’s door, where Pandora 
would never have set eyes on it. So perseveringly as 


86 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


she did babble about this one thing! The box, the 
box, and nothing but the box! It seemed as if the 
box were bewitched, and as if the cottage were not 
big enough to hold it, without Pandora’s continually 
stumbling over it, and making Epimetheus stumble 
over it likewise, and bruising all four of their shins. 

Well, it was really hard that poor Epimetheus 
should have a box in his ears from morning till night; 
especially as the little people of the earth were so un¬ 
accustomed to vexations, in those happy days, that 
they knew not how to deal with them. Thus, a small 
vexation made as much disturbance then, as a far big¬ 
ger one would in our own times. 

After Epimetheus was gone, Pandora stood gazing 
at the box. She had called it ugly, above a hundred 
times; but, in spite of all that she had said against it, 
it was positively a very handsome article of furniture, 
and would have been quite an ornament to any room 
in which it should be placed. It was made of a beau¬ 
tiful kind of wood, with dark and rich veins spreading 
over its surface, which was so highly polished that lit¬ 
tle Pandora could see her face in it. As the child had 
no other looking-glass, it is odd that she did not value 
the box, merely on this account. 

The edges and corners of the box were carved with 
most wonderful skill, ground the margin there were 
figures of graceful men and women, and the prettiest 
children ever seen, reclining or sporting amid a pro¬ 
fusion of flowers and foliage; and these various ob¬ 
jects were so exquisitely represented, and were wrought 
together in such harmony, that flowers, foliage, and 
human beings seemed to combine into a wreath of 
mingled beauty. But here and there, peeping forth 
from behind the carved foliage, Pandora once or twice 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 87 


fancied that she saw a face not so lovely, or something 
or other that was disagreeable, and which stole the 
beauty out of all the rest. Nevertheless, on looking 
more closely, and touching the spot with her finger, 
she could discover nothing of the kind. Some face, 
that was really beautiful, had been made to look ugly 
by her catching a sideway glimpse at it. 

The most beautiful face of all was done in what is 
called high relief, in the centre of the lid. There was 
nothing else, save the dark, smooth richness of the 
polished wood, and this one face in the centre, with a 
garland of flowers about its brow. Pandora had 
looked at this face a great many times, and imagined 
that the mouth could smile if it liked, or be grave 
when it chose, the same as any living mouth. The 
features, indeed, all wore a very lively and rather 
mischievous expression, which looked almost as if it 
needs must burst out of the carved lips, and utter it¬ 
self in words. 

Had the mouth spoken, it would probably have been 
something like this: 

“ Do not be afraid, Pandora! What harm can 
there be in opening the box ? Never mind that poor, 
simple Epimetheus ! You are wiser than he, and have 
ten times as much spirit. Open the box, and see if 
you do not find something very pretty! ” 

The box, I had almost forgotten to say, was fas¬ 
tened ; not by a lock, nor by any other such contri¬ 
vance, but by a very intricate knot of gold cord. 
There appeared to be no end to this knot, and no be¬ 
ginning. Never was a knot so cunningly twisted, nor 
with so many ins and outs, which roguishly defied the 
skilfullest fingers to disentangle them. And yet, by 
the very difficulty that there was in it, Pandora was 


88 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 

the more tempted to examine the knot, and just see 
how it was made. Two or three times, already, sh<* 
had stooped over the box, and taken the knot between 
her thumb and forefinger, but without positively try¬ 
ing to undo it. 

u I really believe,” said she to herself, “ that I begin 
to see how it was done. Nay, perhaps I could tie it 
up again, after undoing it. There would be no harm 
in that, surely. Even Epimetheus would not blame 
me for that. I need not open the box, and should 
not, of course, without the foolish boy’s consent, even 
if the knot were untied.” 

It might have been better for Pandora if she had 
had a little work to do, or anything to employ her 
mind upon, so as not to be so constantly thinking of 
this one subject. But children led so easy a life, be¬ 
fore any Troubles came into the world, that they had 
really a great deal too much leisure. They could not 
be forever playing at hide-and-seek among the flower- 
shrubs, or at blind-man’s-buff with garlands over their 
eyes, or at whatever other games had been found out, 
while Mother Earth was in her babyhood. When life 
is all sport, toil is the real play. There was absolutely 
nothing to do. A little sweeping and dusting about 
the cottage, I suppose, and the gathering of fresh 
flowers (which were only too abundant everywhere), 
and arranging them in vases, — and poor little Pan¬ 
dora’s day’s work was over. And then, for the rest of 
the day, there was the box! 

After all, I am not quite sure that the box was not 
a blessing to her in its way. It supplied her with such 
a variety of ideas to think of, and to talk about, when¬ 
ever she had anybody to listen! When she was in 
good-humor, she could admire the bright polish of its 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 89 


sides, and the rich border of beautiful faces and foli¬ 
age that ran all around it. Or, if she chanced to be 
ill-tempered, she could give it a push, or kick it with 
her naughty little foot. And many a kick did the box 
— (but it was a mischievous box, as we shall see, and 
deserved all it got) — many a kick did it receive. 
But, certain it is, if it had not been for the box, our 
active-minded little Pandora would not have known 
half so well how to spend her time as she now did. 

For it was really an endless employment to guess 
what was inside. What could it be, indeed ? Just 
imagine, my little hearers, how busy your wits would 
be, if there were a great box in the house, which, as 
you might have reason to suppose, contained some¬ 
thing new and pretty for your Christmas or New- 
Year’s gifts. Do you think that you should be less 
curious than Pandora? If you were left alone with 
the box, might you not feel a little tempted to lift the 
lid ? But you would not do it. Oh, fie! No, no! 
Only, if you thought there were toys in it, it would be 
so very hard to let slip an opportunity of taking just 
one peep ! I know not whether Pandora expected any 
toys ; for none had yet begun to be made, probably, in 
those days, when the world itself was one great play¬ 
thing for the children that dwelt upon it. But Pan¬ 
dora was convinced that there was something very 
beautiful and valuable in the box; and therefore she 
felt just as anxious to take a peep as any of these 
little girls, here around me, would have felt. And, 
possibly, a little more so ; but of that I am not quite 
so certain. 

On this particular day, however, which we have so 
long been talking about, her curiosity grew so much 
greater than it usually was, that, at last, she ap* 


90 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 

proached the box. She was more than half deter* 
mined to open it, if she could. Ah, naughty Pan¬ 
dora ! 

First, however, she tried to lift it. It was heavy; 
quite too heavy for the slender strength of a child, 
like Pandora. She raised one end of the box a few 
inches from the floor, and let it fall again, with a 
pretty loud thump. A moment afterwards, she al¬ 
most fancied that she heard something stir inside of 
the box. She applied her ear as closely as possible, 
and listened. Positively, there did seem to be a kind 
of stifled murmur, within! Or was it merely the 
singing in Pandora’s ears ? Or could it be the beat 
ing of her heart ? The child could not quite satisfy 
herself whether she had heard anything or no. But, 
at all events, her curiosity was stronger than ever. 

As she drew back her head, her eyes fell upon the 
knot of gold cord. 

“It must have been a very ingenious person who 
tied this knot,” said Pandora to herself. “ But I think 
I could untie it nevertheless. I am resolved, at least, 
to find the two ends of the cord.” 

So she took the golden knot in her fingers, and 
pried into its intricacies as sharply as she could. Al¬ 
most without intending it, or quite knowing what she 
was about, she was soon busily engaged in attempting 
to undo it. Meanwhile, the bright sunshine came 
through the open window ; as did likewise the merry 
voices of the children, playing at a distance, and per¬ 
haps the voice of Epimetheus among them. Pandora 
stopped to listen. What a beautiful day it was ! 
Would it not be wiser, if she were to let the trouble¬ 
some knot alone, and think no more about the box, 
but run and join her little playfellows, and be happy ? 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 91 

All this time, however, her fingers were half un¬ 
consciously busy with the knot; and happening to 
glance at the flower-wreathed face on the lid of the 
enchanted box, she seemed to perceive it slyly grin¬ 
ning at her. 

“ That face looks very mischievous,” thought Pan 
dora. “ I wonder whether it smiles because I am do^ 
ing wrong! I have the greatest mind in the world to 
run away! ” 

But just then, by the merest accident, she gave the 
knot a kind of a twist, which produced a wonderful 
result. The gold cord untwined itself, as if by magic, 
and left the box without a fastening. 

“ This is the strangest thing I ever knew! ” said 
Pandora. “ What will Epimetheus say ? And how 
can I possibly tie it up again ? ” 

She made one or two attempts to restore the knot, 
but soon found it quite beyond her skill. It had dis¬ 
entangled itself so suddenly that she could not in the 
least remember how the strings had been doubled into 
one another ; and when she tried to recollect the shape 
and appearance of the knot, it seemed to have gone 
entirely out of her mind. Nothing was to be done, 
therefore, but to let the box remain as it was until 
Epimetheus should come in. 

“But,” said Pandora, “ when he finds the knot un¬ 
fled, he will know that I have done it. How shall I 
make him believe that I have not looked into the 
box?” 

And then the thought came into her naughty little 
heart, that, since she would be suspected of having 
looked into the box, she might just as well do so at 
once. Oh, very naughty and very foolish Pandora! 
You should have thought only of doing what was 


92 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


right, and of leaving undone what was wrong, and noi 
of what your playfellow Epimetheus would have said or 
believed. And so perhaps she might, if the enchanted 
face on the lid of the box had not looked so bewitch- 
ingly persuasive at her, and if she had not seemed 
to hear, more distinctly, than before, the murmur of 
small voices within. She could not tell whether it 
was fancy or no; but there was quite a little tumult 
of whispers in her ear, — or else it was her curiosity 
that whispered, — 

“ Let us out, dear Pandora, — pray let us out! 
W e will be such nice pretty playfellows for you ! 
Only let us out! ” 

u What can it be ? ” thought Pandora. “ Is there 
something alive in the box ? Well! — yes! — I am 
resolved to take just one peep ! Only one peep ; and 
then the lid shall be shut down as safely as ever! 
There cannot possibly be any harm in just one little 
peep! ” 

But it is now time for us to see what Epimetheus 
was doing. 

This was the first time, since his little playmate had 
come to dwell with him, that he had attempted to en¬ 
joy any pleasure in which she did not partake. But 
nothing went right; nor was he nearly so happy as on 
other days. He could not find a sweet grape or a ripe 
fig (if Epimetheus had a fault, it was a little too much 
fondness for figs); or, if ripe at all, they were over¬ 
ripe, and so sweet as to be cloying. There was no 
mirth in his heart, such as usually made his voice 
gush out, of its own accord, and swell the merriment 
of his companions. In short, he grew so uneasy and 
discontented, that the other children could not imag¬ 
ine what was the matter with Epimetheus. Neither 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 93 

did he himself know what ailed him, any better than 
they did. For you must recollect that, at the time we 
are speaking of, it was everybody’s nature, and con¬ 
stant habit, to be happy. The world had not yet 
learned to be otherwise. Not a single soul or body, 
since these children were first sent to enjoy them¬ 
selves on the beautiful earth, had ever been sick or 
out of sorts. 

At length, discovering that, somehow or other, he 
put a stop to all the play, Epimetheus judged it best 
to go back to Pandora, who was in a humor better 
suited to his own. But, with a hope of giving her 
pleasure, he gathered some flowers, and made them 
into a wreath, which he meant to put upon her head. 
The flowers were very lovely, — roses, and lilies, and 
orange-blossoms, and a great many more, which left a 
trail of fragrance behind, as Epimetheus carried them 
along; and the wreath was put together with as much 
skill as could reasonably be expected of a boy. The 
fingers of little girls, it has always appeared to me, 
are the fittest to twine flower-wreaths; but boys could 
do it, in those days, rather better than they can now. 

And here I must mention that a great black cloud 
had been gathering in the sky, for some time past, al¬ 
though it had not yet overspread the sun. But, just 
as Epimetheus reached the cottage door, this cloud be¬ 
gan to intercept the sunshine, and thus to make a sud¬ 
den and sad obscurity. 

He entered softly ; for he meant, if possible, to stea] 
behind Pandora, and fling the wreath of flowers over 
her head, before she should be aware of his approach. 
But, as it happened, there was no need of his treading 
so very lightly. He might have trod as heavily as he 
pleased, — as heavily as a grown man, — as heavily. 


94 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


I was going to say, as an elepliant, — without much 
probability of Pandora’s hearing his footsteps. She 
was too intent upon her purpose. At the moment of 
his entering the cottage, the naughty child had put her 
hand to the lid, and was on the point of opening the 
mysterious box. Epimetheus beheld her. If he had 
cried out, Pandora would probably have withdrawn her 
hand, and the fatal mystery of the box might never 
have been known. 

But Epimetheus himself, although he said very little 
about it, had his own share of curiosity to know what 
was inside. Perceiving that Pandora was resolved to 
find out the secret, he determined that his playfellow 
should not be the only wise person in the cottage, 
And if there were anything pretty or valuable in the 
box, he meant to take half of it to himself. Thus, 
sifter all his sage speeches to Pandora about restraint 
Jig her curiosity, Epimetheus turned out to be quite 
as foolish, and nearly as much in fault, as she. So.- 
whenever we blame Pandora for what happened, we 
must not forget to shake our heads at Epimetheus 
likewise. 

As Pandora raised the lid, the cottage grew very 
dark and dismal; for the black cloud had now swept 
quite over the sun, and seemed to have buried it alive. 
There had, for a little while past, been a low growling 
and muttering, which all at once broke into a heavy 
peal of thunder. But Pandora, heeding nothing of all 
this, lifted the lid nearly upright, and looked inside. 
It seemed as if a sudden swarm of winged creatures 
brushed past her, taking flight out of the box, while, 
at the same instant, she heard the voice of Epimetheus, 
with a lamentable tone, as if he were in pain. 

“ Oh, I am stung ! ” cried he. “ I am stung! 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 95 


Naughty Pandora! why have you opened this wicked 
box?” 

Pandora let fall the lid, and, starting up, looked 
about her, to see what had befallen Epimetheus. The 
thunder-cloud had so darkened the room that she could 
not very clearly discern what was in it. But she heard 
a disagreeable buzzing, as if a great many huge flies, 
or gigantic mosquitoes, or those insects which we call 
dor-bugs, and pinching-dogs, were darting about. And, 
as her eyes grew more accustomed to the imperfect 
light* she saw a crowd of ugly little shapes, with bats’ 
wings, looking abominably spiteful, and armed with 
terribly long stings in their tails. It was one of these 
that had stung Epimetheus. Nor was it a great while 
before Pandora herself began to scream, in no less 
pain and affright than her playfellow, and making a 
vast deal more hubbub about it. An odious little 
monster had settled on her forehead, and would have 
stung her I know not how deeply, if Epimetheus had 
not run and brushed it away. 

Now, if you wish to know what these ugly things 
might be, which had made their escape out of the box, 
I must tell you that they were the whole family of 
earthly Troubles. There were evil Passions ; there 
were a great many species of Cares ; there were more 
than a hundred and fifty Sorrows ; there were Dis¬ 
eases, in a vast number of miserable and painful 
shapes ; there were more kinds of Naughtiness than it 
would be of any use to talk about. In short, every¬ 
thing that has since afflicted the souls and bodies of 
mankind had been shut up in the mysterious box, and 
given to Epimetheus and Pandora to be kept safely, 
in order that the happy children of the world might 
never be molested by them. Had they been faithful 


96 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 

to their trust, all would have gone well. No grows 
person would ever have been sad, nor any child have 
had cause to shed a single tear, from that hour until 
this moment. 

But — and you may see by this how a wrong act of 
any one mortal is a calamity to the whole world —- by 
Pandora’s lifting the lid of that miserable box, and by 
the fault of Epimetheus, too, in not preventing her, 
these Troubles have obtained a foothold among us, 
and do not seem very likely to be driven away in a 
hurry. For it was impossible, as you will easily guess, 
that the two children should keep the ugly swarm in 
their own little cottage. On the contrary, the first 
thing that they did was to fling open the doors and 
windows, in hopes of getting rid of them ; and, sure 
enough, away flew the winged Troubles all abroad, 
and so pestered and tormented the small people, every¬ 
where about, that none of them so much as smiled for 
many days afterwards. And, what was very singular, 
all the flowers and dewy blossoms on earth, not one of 
which had hitherto faded, now began to droop and 
shed their leaves, after a day or two. The children, 
moreover, who before seemed immortal in their child 
hood, now grew older, day by day, and came soon to 
be youths and maidens, and men and women by and 
by, and aged people, before they dreamed of such z 
thing. 

Meanwhile, the naughty Pandora, and hardly less 
naughty Epimetheus, remained in their cottage. Both 
of them had been grievously stung, and were in a good 
deal of pain, which seemed the more intolerable to 
them, because it was the very first pain that had ever 
been felt since the world began. Of course, they were 
entirely unaccustomed to it, and could have no idea 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 97 

wliat it meant. Besides all this, they were in exceed¬ 
ingly bad humor, both with themselves and with one 
another. In order to indulge it to the utmost, Epi- 
metheus sat down sullenly in a corner with his back 
towards Pandora; while Pandora flung herself upon 
the floor and rested her head on the fatal and abom¬ 
inable box. She was crying bitterly, and sobbing as 
if her heart would break. 

Suddenly there was a gentle little tap on the inside 
of the lid. 

“ What can that be ? ” cried Pandora, lifting her 
head. 

But either Epimetheus had not heard the tap, oi 
was too much out of humor to notice it. At any rate, 
he made no answer. 

“ You are very unkind,” said Pandora, sobbing 
anew, “ not to speak to me ! ” 

Again the tap ! It sounded like the tiny knuckles 
of a fairy’s hand, knocking lightly and playfully on 
the inside of the box. 

“ Who are you ? ” asked Pandora, with a little of 
her former curiosity. “ Who are you, inside of this 
naughty box ? ” 

A sweet little voice spoke from within, — 

“ Only lift the lid, and you shall see.” 

“ No, no,” answered Pandora, again beginning to 
sob, “ I have had enough of lifting the lid ! You are 
inside of the box, naughty creature, and there you shall 
stay! There are plenty of your ugly brothers and 
sisters already flying about the world. You need 
never think that I shall be so foolish as to let you 
out! ” 

She looked towards Epimetheus, as she spoke, per¬ 
haps expecting that he would commend her for her 

VOL. iv. 7 


98 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


wisdom. But the sullen boy only muttered that she 
was wise a little too late. 

“ Ah,” said the sweet little voice again, “ you had 
much better let me out. I am not like those naughty 
creatures that have stings in their tails. They are no 
brothers and sisters of mine, as you would see at once, 
if you were only to get a glimpse of me. Come, come, 
My pretty Pandora! I am sure you will let me out! ” 

And, indeed, there was a kind of cheerful witchery 
in the tone, that made it almost impossible to refuse 
anything which this little voice asked. Pandora’s 
heart had insensibly grown lighter, at every word that 
came from within the box. Epimetheus, too, though 
still in the corner, had turned half round, and seemed 
to be in rather better spirits than before. 

“ My dear Epimetheus,” cried Pandora, “ have you 
heard this little voice ? ” 

“Yes, to be sure I have,” answered he, but in no 
Very good-humor as yet. “ And what of it ? ” 

“ Shall I lift the lid again ? ” asked Pandora. 

“Just as you please,” said Epimetheus. “You have 
done so much mischief already, that perhaps you may 
as well do a little more. One other Trouble, in such 
a swarm as you have set adrift about the world, can 
make no very great difference.” 

“You might speak a little more kindly! ” murmured 
Pandora, wiping her eyes. 

“ Ah, naughty boy! ” cried the little voice within 
the box, in an arch and laughing tone. “ He knows 
he is longing to see me. Come, my dear Pandora, 
lift up the lid. I am in a great hurry to comfort you. 
Only let me have some fresh air, and you shall soon 
see that matters are not quite so dismal as you think 
them! ” 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 99 


“ Epimetheus,” exclaimed Pandora, 44 come what 
may, I am resolved to open the box! ” 

44 And, as the lid seems very heavy,” cried Epirne- 
theus, running across the room, 44 1 will help you! ” 
So, with one consent, the two children again lifted 
the lid. Out flew a sunny and smiling little person¬ 
age, and hovered about the room, throwing a light 
wherever she went. Have you never made the sun¬ 
shine dance into dark corners, by reflecting it from 
a bit of looking-glass ? Well, so looked the winged 
cheerfulness of this fairy-like stranger, amid the gloom 
of the cottage. She flew to Epimetheus, and laid the 
least touch of her finger on the inflamed spot where 
the Trouble had stung him, and immediately the an¬ 
guish of it was gone. Then she kissed Pandora on 
the forehead, and her hurt was cured likewise. 

After performing these good offices, the bright 
stranger fluttered sportively over the children’s heads, 
•and looked so sweetly at them, that they both began 
lo think it not so very much amiss to have opened the 
box, since, otherwise, their cheery guest must have 
been kept a prisoner among those naughty imps with 
stings in their tails. 

44 Pray, who are you, beautiful creature ? ” inquired 
Pandora. 

44 1 am to be called Hope ! ” answered the sunshiny 
figure. 44 And because I am such a cheery little body, 
I was packed into the box, to make amends to the hu¬ 
man race for that swarm of ugly Troubles, which was 
destined to be let loose among them. Never fear! we 
shall do pretty well in spite of them all.” 

44 Your wings are colored like the rainbow! ” ex¬ 
claimed Pandora. 44 How very beautiful! ” 

44 Yes, they are like the rainbow,” said Hope, 44 be- 


100 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 


cause, glad as my nature is, I am partly made of tears 
as well as smiles.” 

“ And will you stay with us,” asked Epimetheus, 
“ forever and ever ? ” 

“ As long as you need me,” said Hope, with her 
pleasant smile, — “ and that will be as long as you 
live in the world, — I promise never to desert you. 
There may come times and seasons, now and then, 
when you will think that I have utterly vanished. 
But again, and again, and again, when perhaps you 
least dream of it, you shall see the glimmer of my 
wings on the ceiling of your cottage. Yes, my dear 
children, and I know something very good and beauti¬ 
ful that is to be given you hereafter ! ” 

“ Oh tell us,” they exclaimed, — “ tell us what it 
is!” 

“ Do not ask me,” replied Hope, putting her finger 
on her rosy mouth. “ But do not despair, even if it 
should never happen while you live on this earth. 
Trust in my promise, for it is true.” 

“We do trust you!” cried Epimetheus and Pan¬ 
dora, both in one breath. 

And so they did; and not only they, but so has 
everybody trusted Hope, that has since been alive. 
And to tell you the truth, I cannot help being glad — 
(though, to be sure, it was an uncommonly naughty 
thing for her to do) — but I cannot help being glad 
that our foolish Pandora peeped into the box. No 
doubt — no doubt — the Troubles are still flying about 
the world, and have increased in multitude, rather 
than lessened, and are a very ugly set of imps, and 
carry most venomous stings in their tails. I have felt 
them already, and expect to feel them more, as I grow 
older. But then that lovely and lightsome little figure 


THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN 101 


of Hope! What in the world could we do without 
her? Hope spiritualizes the earth; Hope makes it 
always new; and, even in the earth’s best and brightest 
aspect, Hope shows it to be only the shadow of an in¬ 
finite bliss hereafter! 



TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM. 


AFTER THE STORY. 

“ Primrose,” asked Eustace, pinching her ear, 
“ how do you like my little Pandora ? Don’t you 
think her the exact picture of yourself? But you 
would not have hesitated half so long about opening 
the box.” 

“ Then I should have been well punished for my 
naughtiness,” retorted Primrose, smartly; 44 for the 
first thing to pop out, after the lid was lifted, would 
have been Mr. Eustace Bright, in the shape of a 
Trouble.” 

“ Cousin Eustace,” said Sweet Fern, “ did the box 
hold all the trouble that has ever come into the 
world ? ” 

44 Every mite of it! ” answered Eustace. 44 This 
very snow-storm, which has spoiled my skating, was 
packed up there.” 

44 And how big was the box ? ” asked Sweet Fern. 

44 Why, perhaps three feet long,” said Eustace, 
44 two feet wide, and two feet and a half high.” 

44 Ah,” said the child, 44 you are making fun of me, 
Cousin Eustace ! I know there is not trouble enough 
in the world to fill such a great box as that. As for 
the snow-storm, it is no trouble at all, but a pleasure; 
so it could not have been in the box.” 

44 Hear the child! ” cried Primrose, with an air of 
superiority. 44 How little he knows about the troubles 















TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM 103 


of this world ! Poor fellow ! He will be wiser when 
he has seen as much of life as I have.” 

So saying, she began to skip the rope. 

Meantime, the day was drawing towards its close. 
Out of doors the scene certainly looked dreary. There 
was a gray drift, far and wide, through the gathering 
twilight; the earth was as pathless as the air; and the 
bank of snow over the steps of the porch proved that 
nobody had entered or gone out for a good many 
hours past. Had there been only one child at the 
window of Tanglewood, gazing at this wintry prospect, 
it would perhaps have made him sad. But half a 
dozen children together, though they cannot quite 
turn the world into a paradise, may defy old Winter 
and all his storms to put them out of spirits. Eustace 
Bright, moreover, on the spur of the moment, invented 
several new kinds of play, which kept them all in a 
roar of merriment till bedtime, and served for the 
next stormy day besides. 



THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 


TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 

INTRODUCTORY TO “THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.” 

The snow-storm lasted another day ; but what be¬ 
came of it afterwards, I cannot possibly imagine. At 
any rate, it entirely cleared away during the night; 
and when the sun arose the next morning, it shone 
brightly down on as bleak a tract of hill-country, here 
in Berkshire, as could be seen anywhere in the world. 
The frost-work had so covered the window-panes that 
it was hardly possible to get a glimpse at the scenery 
outside. But, while waiting for breakfast, the small 
populace of Tanglewood had scratched peep-holes with 
their finger-nails, and saw with vast delight that — 
unless it were one or two bare patches on a precipitous 
hill-side, or the gray effect of the snow, intermingled 
with the black pine forest — all nature was as white 
as a sheet. How exceedingly pleasant! And, to 
make it all the better, it was cold enough to nip one’s 
nose short off! If people have but life enough in 
them to bear it, there is nothing that so raises the 
spirits, and makes the blood ripple and dance so 
nimbly, like a brook down the slope of a hill, as a 
bright, hard frost. 

No sooner was breakfast over, than the whole party, 















TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 105 

well muffled in furs and woollens, floundered forth 
into the midst of the snow. Well, what a day of 
frosty sport was this! They slid down hill into the 
valley, a hundred times, nobody knows how far; and, 
to make it all the merrier, upsetting their sledges, and 
tumbling head over heels, quite as often as they came 
safely to the bottom. And, once, Eustace Bright took 
Periwinkle, Sweet Fern, and Squash-Blossom, on the 
sledge with him, by way of insuring a safe passage; 
and down they went, full speed. But, behold, half¬ 
way down, the sledge hit against a hidden stump, and 
flung all four of its passengers into a heap; and, on 
gathering themselves up, there was no little Squash- 
Blossom to be found! Why, what could have become 
of the child? And while they were wondering and 
staring about, up started Squash-Blossom out of a 
snow-bank, with the reddest face you ever saw, and 
looking as if a large scarlet flower had suddenly 
sprouted up in midwinter. Then there was a great 
laugh. 

When they had grown tired of sliding down hill, 
Eustace set the children to digging a cave in the 
biggest snow-drift that they could find. Unluckily, 
just as it was completed, and the party had squeezed 
themselves into the hollow, down came the roof upon 
their heads, and buried every soul of them alive! The 
next moment, up popped all their little heads out of 
the ruins, and the tall student’s head in the midst of 
them, looking hoary and venerable with the snow-dust 
that had got amongst his brown curls. And then, to 
punish Cousin Eustace for advising them to dig such 
a tumble-down cavern, the children attacked him in a 
body, and so bepelted him with snowballs that he was 
fain to take to his heels. 


106 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 


So lie ran away, and went into the woods, and 
thence to the margin of Shadow Brook, where he could 
hear the streamlet grumbling along, under great over¬ 
hanging banks of snow and ice, which would scarcely 
let it see the light of day. There were adamantine 
icicles glittering around all its little cascades. Thence 
he strolled to the shore of the lake, and beheld a 
white, untrodden plain before him, stretching from his 
own feet to the foot of Monument Mountain. And, 
it being now almost sunset, Eustace thought that he 
had never beheld anything so fresh and beautiful as 
the scene. He was glad that the children were not 
with him; for their lively spirits and tumble-about 
activity would quite have chased away his higher and 
graver mood, so that he would merely have been 
merry (as he had already been, the whole day long), 
and would not have known the loveliness of the winter 
sunset among the hills. 

When the sun was fairly down, our friend Eustace 
went home to eat his supper. After the meal was 
over, he betook himself to the study, with a purpose, I 
rather imagine, to write an ode, or two or three son¬ 
nets, or verses of some kind or other, in praise of the 
pimple and golden clouds which he had seen around 
the setting sun. But, before he had hammered out 
the very first rhyme, the door opened, and Primrose 
and Periwinkle made their appearance. 

“ Go away, children! I can’t be troubled with you 
now! ” cried the student, looking over his shoulder, 
with the pen between his fingers. “ What in the 
world do you want here ? I thought you were all in 
bed! ” 

“ Hear him, Periwinkle, trying to talk like a grown 
man! ” said Primrose. “ And he seems to forget that 


TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 107 

I am now thirteen years old, and may sit up almost as 
late as I please. But, Cousin Eustace, you must put 
off your airs, and come with us to the drawing-room. 
The children have talked so much about your stories, 
that my father wishes to hear one of them, in order 
to judge whether they are likely to do any mischief.’ , 

“ Poh, poh, Primrose! ” exclaimed the student, 
rather vexed. “ I don’t believe I can tell one of my 
stories in the presence of grown people. Besides, your 
father is a classical scholar; not that I am much afraid 
of his scholarship, neither, for I doubt not it is as 
rusty as an old case-knife by this time. But then he 
will be sure to quarrel with the admirable nonsense 
that I put into these stories, out of my own head, and 
which makes the great charm of the matter for chil¬ 
dren, like yourself. No man of fifty, who has read 
the classical myths in his youth, can possibly under¬ 
stand my merit as a reinventor and improver of 
them.” 

“ All this may be very true,” said Primrose, “ but 
come you must! My father will not open his book, 
nor will mamma open the piano, till you have given us 
some of your nonsense, as you very correctly call it. 
So be a good boy, and come along.” 

Whatever he might pretend, the student was rather 
glad than otherwise, on second thoughts, to catch at 
jhe opportunity of proving to Mr. Pringle what an 
excellent faculty he had in modernizing the myths of 
ancient times. Until twenty years of age, a young 
man may, indeed, be rather bashful about showing his 
poetry and his prose; but, for all that, he is pretty 
apt to think that these very productions would place 
him at the tiptop of literature, if once they could be 
known. Accordingly, without much more resistance, 


108 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 

Eustace suffered Primrose and Periwinkle to drag him 
into the drawing-room. 

It was a large, handsome apartment, with a semicii 
cular window at one end, in the recess of which stood a 
marble copy of Greenough’s Angel and Child. On one 
side of the fireplace there were many shelves of books, 
gravely but richly bound. The white light of the astral- 
lamp, and the red glow of the bright coal-fire, made 
the room brilliant and cheerful; and before the fire, 
in a deep arm-chair, sat Mr. Pringle, looking just fit 
to be seated in such a chair, and in such a room. He 
was a tall and quite a handsome gentleman, with a 
bald brow; and was always so nicely dressed, that even 
Eustace Bright never liked to enter his presence with¬ 
out at least pausing at the threshold to settle his shirt* 
collar. But now, as Primrose had hold of one of his 
hands, and Periwinkle of the other, he was forced to 
make his appearance with a rough-and-tumble sort of 
look, as if he had been rolling all day in a snow-bank. 
And so he had. 

Mr. Pringle turned towards the student benignly 
enough, but in a way that made him feel how uncombed 
and unbrushed he was, and how uncombed and un¬ 
brushed, likewise, were his mind and thoughts. 

“ Eustace,” said Mr. Pringle, with a smile, “ I find 
that you are producing a great sensation among the 
little public of Tanglewood, by the exercise of your 
gifts of narrative. Primrose here, as the little folks 
choose to call her, and the rest of the children, have 
been so loud in praise of your stories, that Mrs. Pringle 
and myself are really curious to hear a specimen. It 
would be so much the more gratifying to myself, as 
the stories appear to be an attempt to render the fables 
of classical antiquity into the idiom of modern fancy 


TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 109 


and feeling. At least, so I judge from a few of the 
incidents which have come to me at second hand.” 

“You are not exactly the auditor that I should have 
chosen, sir,” oberved the student, “ for fantasies of this 
nature.” 

“ Possibly not,” replied Mr. Pringle. “ I suspect, 
however, that a young author’s most useful critic is 
precisely the one whom he would be least apt to choose. 
Pray oblige me, therefore.” 

“ Sympathy, methinks, should have some little share 
in the critic’s qualifications,” murmured Eustace Bright. 
“ However, sir, if you will find patience, I will find 
stories. But be kind enough to remember that I am 
addressing myself to the imagination and sympathies 
of the children, not to your own.” 

Accordingly, the student snatched hold of the first 
theme which presented itself. It was suggested by a 
plate of apples that he happened to spy on the mantel¬ 
piece. 



THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 


Did you ever hear of the golden apples, that grew 
in the garden of the Hesperides ? Ah, those were such 
apples as would bring a great price, by the bushel, 
if any of them could be found growing in the or¬ 
chards of nowadays ! But there is not, I suppose, a 
graft of that wonderful fruit on a single tree in the 
wide world. Not so much as a seed of those apples 
exists any longer. 

And, even in the old, old, half-forgotten times, be¬ 
fore the garden of the Hesperides was overrun with 
weeds, a great many people doubted whether there 
could be real trees that bore apples of solid gold upon 
their branches. All had heard of them, but nobody 
remembered to have seen any. Children, nevertheless, 
used to listen, open-mouthed, to stories of the golden 
apple-tree, and resolved to discover it, when they 
should be big enough. Adventurous young men, who 
desired to do a braver thing than any of their fellows, 
set out in quest of this fruit. Many of them returned 
no more ; none of them brought back the apples. No 
wonder that they found it impossible to gather them ! 
It is said that there was a dragon beneath the tree, 
with a hundred terrible heads, fifty of which were al¬ 
ways on the watch, while the other fifty slept. 

In my opinion it was hardly worth running so much 
risk for the sake of a solid golden apple. Had the 
apples been sweet, mellow, and juicy, indeed that 
would be another matter. There might then have been 







THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 111 


some sense in trying to get at them, in spite of the 
hundred-headed dragon. 

But, as I have already told you, it was quite a com. 
mon thing with young persons, when tired of too much 
peace and rest, to go in search of the garden of the 
Hesperides. And once the adventure was undertaken 
by a hero who had enjoyed very little peace or rest 
since he came into the world. At the time of which I 
am going to speak, he was wandering through the pleas¬ 
ant land of Italy, with a mighty club in his hand, and 
a bow and quiver slung across his shoulders. He was 
wrapt in the skin of the biggest and fiercest lion that 
ever had been seen, and which he himself had killed ; 
and though, on the whole, he was kind, and generous, 
and noble, there was a good deal of the lion’s fierce¬ 
ness in his heart. As he went on his way, he contin¬ 
ually inquired whether that were the right road to the 
famous garden. But none of the country people knew 
anything about the matter, and many looked as if they 
would have laughed at the question, if the stranger 
had not carried so very big a club. 

So he journeyed on and on, still making the same 
inquiry, until, at last, he came to the brink of a river 
where some beautiful young women sat twining wreaths 
of flowers. 

“ Can you tell me, pretty maidens,” asked the stran¬ 
ger, “ whether this is the right way to the garden of 
the Hesperides ? ” 

The young women had been having a fine time to¬ 
gether, weaving the flowers into wreaths, and crowning 
one another’s heads. And there seemed to be a kind 
of magic in the touch of their fingers, that made the 
flowers more fresh and dewy, and of brighter hues, and 
sweeter fragrance, while they played with them, than 


112 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


even when they had been growing on their native stems. 
But, on hearing the stranger’s question, they dropped 
all their flowers on the grass, and gazed at him with 
astonishment. 

“ The garden of the Hesperides ! ” cried one. “We 
thought mortals had been weary of seeking it, after so 
many disappointments. And pray, adventurous trav¬ 
eller, what do you want there ? ” 

“ A certain king, who is my cousin,” replied he, 
“ has ordered me to get him three of the golden ap¬ 
ples.” 

“ Most of the young men who go in quest of these 
apples,” observed another of the damsels, “ desire to 
obtain them for themselves, or to present them to some 
fair maiden whom they love. Do you, then, love this 
king, your cousin, so very much ? ” 

“ Perhaps not,” replied the stranger, sighing. “ He 
has often been severe and cruel to me. But it is my 
destiny to obey him.” 

“ And do you know,” asked the damsel who had 
first spoken, “ that a terrible dragon, with a hundred 
heads, keeps watch under the golden apple-tree ? ” 

“ I know it well,” answered the stranger, calmly. 
“ But, from my cradle upwards, it has been my busi¬ 
ness, and almost my pastime, to deal with serpents 
and dragons.” 

The young women looked at his massive club, and 
at the shaggy lion’s skin which he wore, and likewise 
at his heroic limbs and figure ; and they whispered to 
each other that the stranger appeared to be one who 
might reasonably expect to perform deeds far beyond 
the might of other men. But, then, the dragon with a 
hundred heads ! What mortal, even if he possessed a 
hundred lives, could hope to escape the fangs of such 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 113 


a monster ? So kind-hearted were the maidens, that 
they could not bear to see this brave and handsome 
traveller attempt what was so very dangerous, and de¬ 
vote himself, most probably, to become a meal for the 
dragon’s hundred ravenous mouths. 

“ Go back,” cried they all, — “ go back to your own 
home ! Your mother, beholding you safe and sound, 
will shed tears of joy ; and what can she do more, 
should you win ever so great a victory ? No matter 
for the golden apples ! No matter for the king, your 
cruel cousin! We do not wish the dragon with the 
hundred heads to eat you up ! ” 

The stranger seemed to grow impatient at these 
remonstrances. He carelessly lifted his mighty club, 
and let it fall upon a rock that lay half buried in the 
earth, near by. With the force of that idle blow, the 
great rock was shattered all to pieces. It cost the 
stranger no more effort to achieve this feat of a giant’s 
strength than for one of the young maidens to touch 
her sister’s rosy cheek with a flower. 

“ Do you not believe,” said he, looking at the dam¬ 
sels with a smile, “ that such a blow would have 
crushed one of the dragon’s hundred heads ? ” 

Then he sat down on the grass, and told them the 
story of his life, or as much of it as he could remem¬ 
ber, from the day when he was first cradled in a war¬ 
rior’s brazen shield. While he lay there, two immense 
serpents came gliding over the floor, and opened their 
hideous jaws to devour him ; and he, a baby of a few 
months old, had griped one of the fierce snakes in each 
of his little fists, and strangled them to death. When 
he was but a stripling, he had killed a huge lion, al¬ 
most as big as the one whose vast and shaggy hide he 
now wore upon his shoulders. The next thing that he 

VOL. IV. 8 


114 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 

had done was to fight a battle with an ugly sort of 
monster, called a hydra, which had no less than nine 
heads, and exceedingly sharp teeth in every one. 

44 But the dragon of the Hesperides, you know, 19 
observed one of the damsels, 44 has a hundred heads !” 

44 Nevertheless,” replied the stranger, 44 1 would 
rather fight two such dragons than a single hydra. 
For, as fast as I cut off a head, two others grew in its 
place; and, besides, there was one of the heads that 
could not possibly be killed, but kept biting as fiercely 
as ever, long after it was cut off. So I was forced to 
bury it under a stone, where it is doubtless alive to 
this very day. But the hydra’s body, and its eight 
other heads, will never do any further mischief.” 

The damsels, judging that the story was likely to 
last a good while, had been preparing a repast of bread 
and grapes, that the stranger might refresh himself in 
the intervals of his talk. They took pleasure in help¬ 
ing him to this simple food; and, now and then, one 
of them would put a sweet grape between her rosy 
lips, lest it should make him bashful to eat alone. 

The traveller proceeded to tell how he had chased a 
very swift stag, for a twelvemonth together, without 
ever stopping to take breath, and had at last caught it 
by the antlers, and carried it home alive. And he had 
fought with a very odd race of people, half horses and 
half men, and had put them all to death, from a sense 
of duty, in order that their ugly figures might never 
be seen any more. Besides all this, he took to him¬ 
self great credit for having cleaned out a stable. 

44 Do you call that a wonderful exploit ? ” asked one 
of the young maidens, with a smile. 44 Any clown in 
the country has done as much! ” 

44 Had it been an ordinary stable,” replied the stran- 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 115 


ger, “ 1 should not have mentioned it. But this was 
so gigantic a task that it would have taken me all my 
life to perform it, if I had not luckily thought of turn¬ 
ing the channel of a river through the stable-door. 
That did the business in a very short time ! ” 

Seeing how earnestly his fair auditors listened, he 
next told them how he had shot some monstrous birds, 
and had caught a wild bull alive and let him go again, 
and had tamed a number of very wild horses, and had 
conquered Hippolyta, the warlike queen of the Ama¬ 
zons. He mentioned, likewise, that he had taken off 
Hippolyta’s enchanted girdle, and had given it to the 
daughter of his cousin, the king. 

“ Was it the girdle of Venus,” inquired the prettiest 
of the damsels, “ which makes women beautiful ? ” 

“ No,” answered the stranger. “ It had formerly 
been the sword-belt of Mars ; and it can only make 
the wearer valiant and courageous.” 

“ An old sword-belt! ” cried the damsel, tossing her 
head. “ Then I should not care about having it! ” 

“ You are right,” said the stranger. 

Going on with his wonderful narrative, he informed 
the maidens that as strange an adventure as ever hap¬ 
pened was when he fought with Geryon, the six-legged 
man. This was a very odd and frightful sort of figure, 
as you may well believe. Any person, looking at his 
tracks in the sand or snow, would suppose that three 
sociable companions had been walking along together. 
On hearing his footsteps at a little distance, it was 
no more than reasonable to judge that several people 
must be coming. But it was only the strange man Ge- 
ryon clattering onward, with his six legs ! 

Six legs, and one gigantic body! Certainly, he 
must have been a very queer monster to look at; and, 
my stars, what a waste of shoe-leather! 


116 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 

When the stranger had finished the story of his ad 
ventures, he looked around at the attentive faces of 
the maidens. 

“ Perhaps you may have heard of me before/’ said 
he, modestly. “ My name is Hercules ! ” 

“We had already guessed it,” replied the maidens; 
“ for your wonderful deeds are known all over the 
world. We do not think it strange, any longer, that 
you should set out in quest of the golden apples of the 
Hesperides. Come, sisters, let us crown the hero with 
flowers ! ” 

Then they flung beautiful wreaths over his stately 
head and mighty shoulders, so that the lion’s skin was 
almost entirely covered with roses. They took posses¬ 
sion of his ponderous club, and so entwined it about 
with the brightest, softest, and most fragrant blos¬ 
soms, that not a finger’s breadth of its oaken sub¬ 
stance could be seen. It looked all like a huge bunch 
of flowers. Lastly, they joined hands, and danced 
around him, chanting words which became poetry of 
their own accord, and grew into a choral song, in 
honor of the illustrious Hercules. 

And Hercules was rejoiced, as any other hero would 
have been, to know that these fair young girls had 
heard of the valiant deeds which it had cost him so 
much toil and danger to achieve. But, still, he was 1 
not satisfied. He could not think that what he had 
already done was worthy of so much honor, while 
there remained any bold or difficult adventure to be 
undertaken. 

“ Dear maidens,” said he, when they paused to 
take breath, “ now that you know my name, will you 
not tell me how I am to reach the garden of the Hes* 
oerides ? ” 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 117 

“ Ah! must you go so soon ? ” they exclaimed. 
“You — that have performed so many wonders, and 
spent such a toilsome life — cannot you content your¬ 
self to repose a little while on the margin of this 
peaceful river ? ” 

Hercules shook his head. 

“ I must depart now,” said he. 

“We will then give you the best directions we can,” 
replied the damsels. “ You must go to the sea-shore, 
and find out the Old One, and compel him to inform 
ycu where the golden apples are to be found.” 

“ The Old One! ” repeated Hercules, laughing at 
this odd name. “ And, pray, who may the Old One 
be?” 

“ Why, the Old Man of the Sea, to be sure ! ” an¬ 
swered one of the damsels. “ He has fifty daughters, 
whom some people call very beautiful; but we do not 
think it proper to be acquainted with them, because 
they have sea-green hair, and taper away like fishes. 
You must talk with this Old Man of the Sea. He is 
a sea-faring person, and knows all about the garden 
of the Hesperides; for it is situated in an island which 
he is often in the habit of visiting.” 

Hercules then asked whereabouts the Old One was 
rliost likely to be met with. When the damsels had 
informed him, he thanked them for all their kindness, 
— for the bread and grapes with which they had fed 
him, the lovely flowers with which they had crowned 
him, and the songs and dances wherewith they had 
done him honor, — and he thanked them, most of all, 
for telling him the right way, — and immediately set 
forth upon his journey. 

But, before he was out of hearing, one of the 
maidens called after him. 


118 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 

“ Keep fast hold of the Old One, when you catch 
him ! ” cried she, smiling, and lifting her finger to 
make the caution more impressive. “ Do not be as¬ 
tonished at anything that may happen. Only hold 
him fast, and he will tell you what you wish to know.” 

Hercules again thanked her, and pursued his way, 
while the maidens resumed their pleasant labor of 
making flower-wreaths. They talked about the hero, 
long after he was gone. 

“We will crown him with the loveliest of our gar¬ 
lands,” said they, “ when he returns hither with the 
three golden apples, after slaying the dragon with a 
hundred heads.” 

Meanwhile, Hercules travelled constantly onward, 
over hill and dale, and through the solitary woods. 
Sometimes he swung his club aloft, and splintered a 
mighty oak with a downright blow. His mind was so 
full of the giants and monsters with whom it was the 
business of his life to fight, that perhaps he mistook 
the great tree for a giant or a monster. And so eager 
was Hercules to achieve what he had undertaken, that 
he almost regretted to have spent so much time with 
the damsels, wasting idle breath upon the story of 
his adventures. But thus it always is with persons 
who are destined to perform great things. What they 
have already done seems less than nothing. What 
they have taken in hand to do seems worth toil, dan¬ 
ger, and life itself. 

Persons who happened to be passing through the 
forest must have been affrighted to see him smite the 
trees with his great club. With but a single blow, 
the trunk was riven as by the stroke of lightning, and 
the broad boughs came rustling and crashing down. 

Hastening forward, without ever pausing or looking 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 119 


behind, he by and by heard the sea roaring at a dis¬ 
tance. At this sound, he increased his speed, and 
soon came to a beach, where the great surf-waves turn' 
bled themselves upon the hard sand, in a long line of 
snowy foam. At one end of the beach, however, there 
was a pleasant spot, where some green shrubbery 
clambered up a cliff, making its rocky face look soft 
and beautiful. A carpet of verdant grass, largely in¬ 
termixed with sweet-smelling clover, covered the nar¬ 
row space between the bottom of the cliff and the sea. 
And what should Hercules espy there, but an old man, 
fast asleep! 

But was it really and truly an old man ? Certainly, 
at first sight, it looked very like one ; but, on closer 
inspection, it rather seemed to be some kind of a crea¬ 
ture that lived in the sea. For, on his legs and arms 
there were scales, such as fishes have; he was web¬ 
footed and web-fingered, after the fashion of a duck; 
and his long beard, being of a greenish tinge, had more 
the appearance of a tuft of sea-weed than of an ordi¬ 
nary beard. Have you never seen a stick of timber, 
that has been long tossed about by the waves, and has 
got all overgrown with barnacles, and, at last drifting 
ashore, seems to have been thrown up from the very 
deepest bottom of the sea ? Well, the old man would 
have put you in mind of just such a wave-tost spar! 
But Hercules, the instant he set eyes on this strange 
figure, was convinced that it could be no other than 
the Old One, who was to direct him on his way. 

Yes, it was the selfsame Old Man of the Sea whom 
the hospitable maidens had talked to him about. 
Thanking his stars for the lucky accident of finding 
the old fellow asleep, Hercules stole on tiptoe towards 
him, and caught him by the arm and leg. 


120 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 

“ Tell me,” cried he, before the Old One was well 
awake, “ which is the way to the garden of the Hes« 
perides ? ” 

As you may easily imagine, the Old Man of the 
Sea awoke in a fright. But his astonishment could 
hardly have been greater than was that of Hercules, 
the next moment. For, all of a sudden, the Old One 
seemed to disappear out of his grasp, and he found 
himself holding a stag by the fore and hind leg ! But 
still he kept fast hold. Then the stag disappeared, 
and in its stead there was a sea-bird, fluttering and 
screaming, while Hercules clutched it by the wing and 
claw! But the bird could not get away. Immedi¬ 
ately afterwards, there was an ugly three-headed dog, 
which growled and barked at Hercules, and snapped 
fiercely at the hands by which he held him! But 
Hercules would not let him go. In another minute, 
instead of the three-headed dog, what should appear 
but Geryon, the six-legged man-monster, kicking at 
Hercules with five of his legs, in order to get the re¬ 
maining one at liberty! But Hercules held on. By 
and by, no Geryon was there, but a huge snake, like 
one of those which Hercules had strangled in his baby¬ 
hood, only a hundred times as big; and it twisted and 
twined about the hero’s neck and body, and threw its 
tail high into the air, and opened its deadly jaws as if 
to devour him outright; so that it was really a very 
terrible spectacle ! But Hercules was no whit dis¬ 
heartened, and squeezed the great snake so tightly 
that he soon began to hiss with pain. 

You must understand that the Old Man of the Sea, 
though he generally looked so much like the wave- 
beaten figure-head of a vessel, had the power of as¬ 
suming any shape he pleased. When he found himself 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 121 


30 roughly seized by Hercules, be had been in hopes of 
putting him into such surprise and terror, by these 
magical transformations, that the hero would be glad 
to let him go. If Hercules had relaxed his grasp, the 
Old One woiild certainly have plunged down to the 
very bottom of the sea, whence he would not soon 
have given himself the trouble of coming up, in ordei 
to answer any impertinent questions. Ninety-nine 
people out of a hundred, I suppose, would have been 
frightened out of their wits by the very first of his 
ugly shapes, and would have taken to their heels at 
once. For, one of the hardest things in this world is, 
to see the difference between real dangers and imagi¬ 
nary ones. 

But, as Hercules held on so stubbornly, and only 
squeezed the Old One so much the tighter at every 
change of shape, and really put him to no small tor¬ 
ture, he finally thought it best to reappear in his own 
figure. So there he was again, a fishy, scaly, web¬ 
footed sort of personage, with something like a tuft of 
sea-weed at his chin. 

“ Pray, what do you want with me ? ” cried the Old 
One, as soon as he could take breath; for it is quite a 
tiresome affair to go through so many false shapes. 
“ Why do you squeeze me so hard ? Let me go, this 
moment, or I shall begin to consider you an extremely 
uncivil person ! ” 

“ My name is Hercules! ” roared the mighty 
stranger. “ And you will never get out of my clutch, 
until you tell me the nearest way to the garden of the 
Hesperides! ” 

When the old fellow heard who it was that had 
caught him, he saw, with half an eye, that it would be 
necessary to tell him everything that he wanted to 


122 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 

know. The Old One was an inhabitant of the sea l 
you must recollect, and roamed about everywhere, like 
other sea-faring people. Of course, he had often 
heard of the fame of Hercules, and of the wonderful 
things that he was constantly performing, in various 
parts of the earth, and how determined he always was 
to accomplish whatever he undertook. He therefore 
made no more attempts to escape, but told the hero 
how to find the garden of the Hesperides, and like¬ 
wise warned him of many difficulties which must be 
overcome, before he could arrive thither. 

“You must go on, thus and thus,” said the Old 
Man of the Sea, after taking the points of the com¬ 
pass, “ till you come in sight of a very tall giant, who 
holds the sky on his shoulders. And the giant, if he 
happens to be in the humor, will tell you exactly 
where the garden of the Hesperides lies.” 

“ And if the giant happens not to be in the hu¬ 
mor,” remarked Hercules, balancing his club on the 
tip of his finger, “ perhaps I shall find means to per¬ 
suade him! ” 

Thanking the Old Man of the Sea, and begging his 
pardon for having squeezed him so roughly, the hero 
resumed his journey. He met with a great many 
strange adventures, which would be well worth your 
hearing, if I had leisure to narrate them as minutely 
as they deserve. 

It was in this journey, if I mistake not, that he en¬ 
countered a prodigious giant, who was so wonderfully 
contrived by nature, that, every time he touched the 
earth, he became ten times as strong as ever he had 
been before. His name was Antaeus. You may see, 
plainly enough, that it was a very difficult business 
to fight with such a fellow; for, as often as he got a 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 123 

knock-down blow, up he started again, stronger, fiercer, 
and abler to use his weapons, than if his enemy had 
let him alone. Thus, the harder Hercules pounded 
the giant with his club, the further he seemed from 
wanning the victory. I have sometimes argued with 
such people, but never fought with one. The only 
way in which Hercules found it possible to finish the 
battle, was by lifting Antaeus off his feet into the air, 
and squeezing, and squeezing, and squeezing him, un¬ 
til, finally, the strength was quite squeezed out of his 
enormous body. 

When this affair was finished, Hercules continued 
his travels, and went to the land of Egypt, where he 
was taken prisoner, and would have been put to death, 
if he had not slain the king of the country, and made 
his escape. Passing through the deserts of Africa, 
and going as fast as he could, he arrived at last on 
the shore of the great ocean. And here, unless he 
could walk on the crests of the billows, it seemed as 
if his journey must needs be at an end. 

Nothing was before him, save the foaming, dash¬ 
ing, measureless ocean. But, suddenly, as he looked 
towards the horizon, he saw something, a great way 
^ ' off, which he had not seen the moment before. It 
gleamed very brightly, almost as you may have be¬ 
held the round, golden disk of the sun, when it rises 
or sets over the edge of the world. It evidently drew 
nearer; for, at every instant, this wonderful object be¬ 
came larger and more lustrous. At length, it had 
come so nigh that Hercules discovered it to be an im¬ 
mense cup or bowl, made either of gold or burnished 
brass. How it had got afloat upon the sea is more 
than I can tell you. There it was, at all events, rolling 
on the tumultuous billows, wjiich tossed it up and down, 


124 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


and heaved their foamy tops against its sides, but with- 
out ever throwing their spray over the brim. 

“I have seep many giants, in my time,” thought 
Hercules, “ but never one that would need to drink 
his wine out of a cup like this! ” 

And, true enough, what a cup it must have been I 
It was as large — as large — but, in short, I am afraid 
to say how immeasurably large it was. To speak 
within bounds, it was ten times larger than a great 
mill-wheel; and, all of metal as it was, it floated over 
the heaving surges more lightly than an acorn-cup 
adown the brook. The waves tumbled it onward, 
until it grazed against the shore, within a short dis¬ 
tance of the spot where Hercules was standing. 

As soon as this happened, he knew what was to be 
done ; for he had not gone through so many remark¬ 
able adventures without learning pretty well how to 
conduct himself, whenever anything came to pass a 
little out of the common rule. It was just as clear as 
daylight that this marvellous cup had been set adrift 
by some unseen power, and guided hitherward, in 
order to carry Hercules across the sea, on his way to 
the garden of the Hesperides. Accordingly, without 
a moment’s delay, he clambered over the brim, and 
slid down on the inside, where, spreading out his lion’s 
skin, he proceeded to take a little repose. He had 
scarcely rested, until now, since he bade farewell to 
the damsels on the margin of the river. The waves 
dashed, with a pleasant and ringing sound, against the 
circumference of the hollow cup; it rocked lightly to 
and fro, and the motion was so soothing that it speed¬ 
ily rocked Hercules into an agreeable slumber. 

His nap had probably lasted a good while, when 
the cup chanced to graze against a rock, and, in con- 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 125 


sequence, immediately resounded and reverberated 
through its golden or brazen substance, a hundred 
times as loudly as ever you heard a church-bell. The 
noise awoke Hercules, who instantly started up and 
gazed around him, wondering whereabouts he was. 
He was not long in discovering that the cup had floated 
across a great part of the sea, and was approaching 
the shore of what seemed to be an island. And, on 
that island, what do you think he saw ? 

No; you will never guess it, not if you were to try 
fifty thousand times ! It positively appears to me 
that this was the most marvellous spectacle that had 
ever been seen by Hercules, in the whole course of his 
wonderful travels and adventures. It was a greater 
marvel than the hydra with nine heads, which kept 
growing twice as fast as they were cut off; greater 
than the six-legged man-monster; greater than An¬ 
taeus ; greater than anything that was ever beheld by 
anybody, before or since the days of Hercules, or than 
anything that remains to be beheld, by travellers in 
all time to come. It was a giant! 

But such an intolerably big giant! A giant as tall 
as a mountain; so vast a giant, that the clouds rested 
about his midst, like a girdle, and hung like a hoary 
beard from his chin, and flitted before his huge eyes, 
so that he could neither see Hercules nor the golden 
cup in which he was voyaging. And, most wonderful 
of all, the giant held up his great hands and appeared 
to support the sky, which, so far as Hercules could 
discern through the clouds, was resting upon his head! 
This does really seem almost too much to believe. 

Meanwhile, the bright cup continued to flat on¬ 
ward, and finally touched the strand. Just then a 
breeze wafted away the clouds from before the giant’s 


126 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


visage, and Hercules beheld it, with all its enormous 
features ; eyes each of them as big as yonder lake, a 
nose a mile long, and a mouth of the same width. It 
was a countenance terrible from its enormity of size, 
but disconsolate and weary, even as you may see the 
faces of many people, nowadays, who are compelled to 
sustain burdens above their strength. What the sky 
was to the giant, such are the cares of earth to those 
who let themselves be weighed down by them. And 
whenever men undertake what is beyond the just meas¬ 
ure of their abilities, they encounter precisely such a 
doom as had befallen this poor giant. 

Poor fellow! He had evidently stood there a long 
while. An ancient forest had been growing and decay¬ 
ing around his feet ; and oak-trees, of six or seven 
centuries old, had sprung from the acorn, and forced 
themselves between his toes. 

The giant now looked down from the far height of 
his great eyes, and, perceiving Hercules, roared out, in 
a voice that resembled thunder, proceeding out of the 
cloud that had just flitted away from his face. 

“ Who are you, down at my feet there ? And 
whence do you come, in that little cup ? ” 

“ I am Hercules! ” thundered back the hero, in a 
voice pretty nearly or quite as loud as the giant’s own. 
“ And I am seeking for the garden of the Hesper- 
ides! ” 

“ Ho! ho! ho! ” roared the giant, in a fit of im 
mense laughter. “ That is a wise adventure, truly ! ” 
“ And why not ? ” cried Hercules, getting a little 
angry at the giant’s mirth. “ Do you think I am 
afraid of the dragon with a hundred heads ! ” 

Just at this time, while they were talking together, 
gome black clouds gathered about the giant’s middle^ 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 127 


and burst into a tremendous storm of thunder and 
lightning, causing such a pother that Hercules found 
it impossible to distinguish a word. Only the giant’s 
immeasurable legs were to be seen, standing up into 
the obscurity of the tempest; and, now and then, a 
momentary glimpse of his whole figure, mantled in a 
volume of mist. He seemed to be speaking, most of 
the time ; but his big, deep, rough voice chimed in 
with the reverberations of the thunder-claps, and rolled 
away over the hills, like them. Thus, by talking out 
of season, the foolish giant expended an incalculable 
quantity of breath, to no purpose; for the thunder 
spoke quite as intelligibly as he. 

At last, the storm swept over, as suddenly as it had 
come. And there again was the clear sky, and the 
weary giant holding it up, and the pleasant sunshine 
beaming over his vast height, and illuminating it 
against the background of the sullen thunder-clouds. 
So far above the shower had been his head, that not a 
hair of it was moistened by the rain-drops! 

When the giant could see Hercules still standing on 
the sea-shore, he roared out to him anew. 

“ I am Atlas, the mightiest giant in the world! 
And I hold the sky upon my head ! ” 

“ So I see,” answered Hercules. “ But, can you 
show me the way to the garden of the Hesperides ? ” 

“ What do you want there ? ” asked the giant. 

“ I want three of the golden apples,” shouted Her 
cules, “for my cousin, the king.” 

“ There is nobody but myself,” quoth the giant., 
“ that can go to the garden of the Hesperides, and 
gather the golden apples. If it were not for this lit¬ 
tle business of holding up the sky, I would make half 
a dozen steps across the sea, and get them for you.” 


128 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


“You are very kind,” replied Hercules. “And 
cannot you rest the sky upon a mountain ? ” 

“ None of them are quite high enough,” said Atlas, 
shaking his head. “ But, if you were to take your 
stand on the summit of that nearest one, your head 
would be pretty nearly on a level with mine. You 
seem to be a fellow of some strength. What if you 
should take my burden on your shoulders, while I do 
your errand for you ? ” 

Hercules, as you must be careful to remember, was 
a remarkably strong man ; and though it certainly re¬ 
quires a great deal of muscular power to uphold the 
sky, yet, if any mortal could be supposed capable of 
such an exploit, he was the one. Nevertheless, it 
seemed so difficult an undertaking, that, for the first 
time in his life, he hesitated. 

“ Is the sky very heavy ? ” he inquired. 

“ Why, not particularly so, at first,” answered the 
giant, shrugging his shoulders. “ But it gets to be a 
little burdensome, after a thousand years ! ” 

“ And how long a time,” asked the hero, “ will it 
take you to get the golden apples ? ” 

“ Oh, that will be done in a few moments,” cried 
Atlas. “ I shall take ten or fifteen miles at a stride, 
and be at the garden and back again before your 
shoulders begin to ache.” 

“Well, then,” answered Hercules, “I will climb 
the mountain behind you there, and relieve you of youx 
burden.” 

The truth is, Hercules had a land heart of his own, 
and considered that he should be doing the giant a 
favor, by allowing him this opportunity for a ramble. 
And, besides, he thought that it would be still more 
for his own glory, if he could boast of upholding the 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 129 

sky, than merely to do so ordinary a thing as to con¬ 
quer a dragon with a hundred heads. Accordingly, 
without more words, the sky was shifted from the 
shoulders of Atlas, and placed upon those of Her¬ 
cules. 

When this was safely accomplished, the first thing 
that the giant did was to stretch himself; and you 
may imagine what a prodigious spectacle he was then. 
Next, he slowly lifted one of his feet out of the forest 
that had grown up around it; then, the other. Then, 
all at once, he began to caper, and leap, and dance, 
for joy at his freedom ; flinging himself nobody knows 
how high into the air, and floundering down again 
with a shock that made the earth tremble. Then he 
laughed — Ho ! ho! ho ! — with a thunderous roar that 
was echoed from the mountains, far and near, as if 
they and the giant had been so many rejoicing brothers. 
When his joy had a little subsided, he stepped into 
the sea; ten miles at the first stride, which brought 
him midleg deep; and ten miles at the second, when 
the water came just above his knees; and ten miles 
more at the third, by which he was immersed nearly 
to his waist. This was the greatest depth of the sea. 

Hercules watched the giant, as he still went onward; 
for it was really a wonderful sight, this immense hu¬ 
man form, more than thirty miles off, half hidden in 
the ocean, but with his upper half as tall, and misty, 
and blue, as a distant mountain. At last the gigantic 
shape faded entirely out of view. And now Hercules 
began to consider what he should do, in case Atlas 
should be drowned in the sea, or if he were to be stung 
to death by the dragon with the hundred heads, which 
guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides. If any 
such misfortune were to happen, how could he ever 

VOL. IV. 9 


130 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 

get rid of the sky ? And, by the by, its weight began 
already to be a little irksome to his head and shoul¬ 
ders. 

“ I really pity the poor giant,” thought Hercules. 
“ If it wearies me so much in ten minutes, how must it 
have wearied him in a thousand years ! ” 

O my sweet little people, you have no idea what a 
weight there was in that same blue sky, which looks 
so soft and aerial above our heads ! And there, too, 
was the bluster of the wind, and the chill and watery 
clouds, and the blazing sun, all taking their turns to 
make Hercules uncomfortable! He began to be afraid 
that the giant would never come back. He gazed 
wistfully at the world beneath him, and acknowledged 
to himself that it was a far happier kind of life to be 
a shepherd at the foot of a mountain, than to stand on 
its dizzy summit, and bear up the firmament with his 
might and main. For, of course, as you will easily 
understand, Hercules had an immense responsibility 
on his mind, as well as a weight on his head and 
shoulders. Why, if he did not stand perfectly still, 
and keep the sky immovable, the sun would perhaps 
be put ajar ! Or, after nightfall, a great many of the 
stars might be loosened from their places, and shower 
down, like fiery rain, upon the people’s heads! And 
how ashamed would the hero be, if, owing to his un¬ 
steadiness beneath its weight, the sky should crack, 
and show a great fissure quite across it ! 

I know not how long it was before, to his unspeak¬ 
able joy, he beheld the huge shape of the giant, like a 
cloud, on the far-off edge of the sea. At his nearer 
approach, Atlas held up his hand, in which Hercules 
could perceive three magnificent golden apples, as big 
as pmnpkins, all hanging from one branch. 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 131 

“ I am glad to see you again,” shouted Hercules, 
when the giant was within hearing. “ So you have 
got the golden apples ? ” 

“ Certainly, certainly,” answered Atlas ; “ and very 
fair apples they are. I took the finest that grew on 
the tree, I assure you. Ah! it is a beautiful spot, 
that garden of the Hesperides. Yes; and the dragon 
with a hundred heads is a sight worth any man’s see¬ 
ing. After all, you had better have gone for the ap¬ 
ples yourself.” 

“ No matter,” replied Hercules. “ You have had a 
pleasant ramble, and have done the business as well as 
I could. I heartily thank you for your trouble. And 
now, as I have a long way to go, and am rather in 
haste, — and as the king, my cousin, is anxious to re¬ 
ceive the golden apples, — will you be kind enough to 
take the sky off my shoulders again ? ” 

“ Why, as to that,” said the giant, chucking the 
golden apples into the air twenty miles high, or there¬ 
abouts and catching them as they came down, — “as 
to that, my good friend, I consider you a little um 
reasonable. Cannot I carry the golden apples to the 
king, your cousin, much quicker than you could ? A s 
his majesty is in such a hurry to get them, I promise 
you to take my longest strides. And, besides, I have 
no fancy for burdening myself with the sky, just 
now.” 

Here Hercules grew impatient, and gave a great 
shrug of his shoulders. It being now twilight, you 
might have seen two or three stars tumble out of their 
places. Everybody on earth looked upward in af¬ 
fright, thinking that the sky might be going to fall 
next. 

“ Oh, that will never do ! ” cried Giant Atlas, with 


132 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 


a great roar of laughter. “ I have not let fall so many 
stars within the last five centuries. By the time you 
have stood there as long as I did, you will begin to 
learn patience! ” 

“What! ” shouted Hercules, very wrathfully, “do 
you intend to make me bear this burden forever ? ” 

“We will see about that, one of these days,” an¬ 
swered the giant. “ At all events, you ought not to 
complain, if you have to bear it the next hundred 
years, or perhaps the next thousand. I bore it a good 
while longer, in spite of the back-ache. Well, then, 
after a thousand years, if I happen to feel in the mood, 
we may possibly shift about again. You are certainly 
a very strong man, and can never have a better op¬ 
portunity to prove it. Posterity will talk of you, I 
warrant it! ” 

“ Pish! a fig for its talk! ” cried Hercules, with an 
other hitch of his shoulders. “ Just take the sky upon 
your head one instant, will you ? I want to make a 
cushion of my lion’s skin, for the weight to rest upon. 
It really chafes me, and will cause unnecessary incon¬ 
venience in so many centuries as I am to stand here.” 

“ That’s no more than fair, and I ’ll do it! ” quoth 
the giant; for he had no unkind feeling towards Her¬ 
cules, and was merely acting with a too selfish consid¬ 
eration of his own ease. “For just five minutes, 
then, I ’ll take back the sky. Only for five minutes, 
recollect! I have no idea of spending another thou¬ 
sand years as I spent the last. Variety is the spice of 
life, say I.” 

Ah, the thick-witted old rogue of a giant! He 
threw down the golden apples, and received back the 
sky, from the head and shoulders of Hercules, upon 
his own, where it rightly belonged. And Hercules 


THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 133 


picked up the three golden apples, that were as big or 
bigger than pumpkins, and straightway set out on his 
journey homeward, without paying the slightest heed 
to the thundering tones of the giant, who bellowed after 
him to come back. Another forest sprang up around 
his feet, and grew ancient there ; and again might be 
seen oak-trees, of six or seven centuries old, that had 
waxed thus aged betwixt his enormous toes. 

And there stands the giant to this day; or, at any 
rate, there stands a mountain as tall as he, and which 
bears his name; and when the thunder rumbles about 
its summit, we may imagine it to be the voice of Giant 
Atlas, bellowing after Hercules! 



TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 

AFTER THE STORY. 

“Cousin Eustace,” demanded Sweet Fern, who 
had been sitting at the story-teller’s feet, with his 
mouth wide open, “ exactly how tall was this giant ? ” 

“ O Sweet Fern, Sweet Fern! ” cried the student, 
“ do you think I was there, to measure him with a 
yard-stick? Well, if you must know to a hair’s- 
breadth, I suppose he might be from three to fifteen 
miles straight upward, and that he might have seated 
himself on Taconic, and had Monument Mountain for 
a footstool.” 

“Dear me! ” ejaculated the good little boy, with a 
contented sort of a grmu,, “that was a giant, sure 
enough! And how long was his little finger ? ” 

“As long as from Tanglewood to the lake,” said 
Eustace. 

“ Sure enough, that was a giant! ” repeated Sweet 
Fern, in an ecstasy at the precision of these measure¬ 
ments. “ And how broad, I wonder, were the shoul¬ 
ders of Hercules?” 

“ That is what I have never been able to find out,’ 
answered the student. “ But I think they must have 
been a great deal broader than mine, or than your 
father’s, or than almost any shoulders which one sees 
nowadays.” 

“I wish,” whispered Sweet Fern, with his mouth 
close to the student’s ear, “that you would tell me 












TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 135 

how big were some of the oak-trees that grew between 
the giant’s toes.” 

“ They were bigger,” said Eustace, “ than the great 
chestnut-tree which stands beyond Captain Smith’s 
house.” 

“ Eustace,” remarked Mr. Pringle, after some de¬ 
liberation, “ I find it impossible to express such an 
opinion of this story as will be likely to gratify, in the 
smallest degree, your pride of authorship. Pray let 
me advise you never more to meddle with a classical 
myth. Your imagination is altogether Gothic, and 
will inevitably Gothicize everything that you touch. 
The effect is like bedaubing a marble statue with 
paint. This giant, now! How can you have ven¬ 
tured to thrust his huge, disproportioned mass among 
the seemly outlines of Grecian fable, the tendency of 
which is to reduce even the extravagant within limits, 
by its pervading elegance ? ” 

“ I described the giant "^'he appeared to me,” re¬ 
plied the student, rather piqued. “ And, sir, if you 
would only bring your mind into such a relation with 
these fables as is necessary in order to remodel them, 
you would see at once that an old Greek had no more 
exclusive right to them than a modern Yankee has. 
They are the common property of the world, and of 
all time. The ancient poets remodelled them at 
pleasure, and held them plastic in their hands; and 
> why should they not be plastic in my hands as well ? ” 

Mr. Pringle could not forbear a smile. 

“ And besides,” continued Eustace, “ the moment 
you put any warmth of heart, any passion or affection, 
any human or divine morality, into a classic mould, 
you make it quite another thing from what it was be¬ 
fore. My own opinion is, that the Greeks, by taking 


136 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE 


possession of these legends (which were the immemo¬ 
rial birthright of mankind), and putting them into 
shapes of indestructible beauty, indeed, but cold and 
heartless, have done all subsequent ages an incalcu¬ 
lable injury.” 

“ Which you, doubtless, were born to remedy,” said 
Mr. Pringle, laughing outright. “ Well, well, go on; 
but take my advice, and never put any of your traves¬ 
ties on paper. And, as your next effort, what if you 
should try your hand on some one of the legends of 
Apollo?” 

“ Ah, sir, you propose it as an impossibility,” ob¬ 
served the student, after a moment’s meditation*, 
“ and, to be sure, at first thought, the idea of a Gothic 
Apollo strikes one rather ludicrously. But I will turn 
over your suggestion in my mind, and do not quite 
despair of success.” 

During the above discussion, the children (who un¬ 
derstood not a word of it) had grown very sleepy, and 
were now sent off to bed. Their drowsy babble was 
heard, ascending the staircase, while a northwest-wind 
roared loudly among the tree-tops of Tangle wood, and 
played an anthem around the house. Eustace Bright 
went back to the study, and again endeavored to ham¬ 
mer out some verses, but fell asleep between two of 
the rhymes. 



THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 


THE HILL-SIDE. 

INTRODUCTORY TO u THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.” 

And when, and where, do you think we find the 
children next ? No longer in the winter-time, but in 
the merry month of May. No longer in Tangle wood 
play-room, or at Tanglewood fireside, but more than 
half-way up a monstrous hill, or a mountain, as per¬ 
haps it would be better pleased to have us call it. 
They had set out from home with the mighty purpose 
of climbing this high hill, even to the very tiptop of 
its bald head. To be sure, it was not quite so high as 
Chimborazo, or Mont Blanc, and was even a good 
deal lower than old Graylock. But, at any rate, it 
was higher than a thousand ant-hillocks, or a million 
of mole-hills ; and, when measured by the short strides 
of little children, might be reckoned a very respectable 
mountain. 

And was Cousin Eustace with the party ? Of that 
you may be certain ; else how could the book go on a 
step further ? He was now in the middle of the spring 
vacation, and looked pretty much as we saw him four 
or five months ago, except that, if you gazed quite 
closely at his upper lip, you could discern the funniest 
little bit of a mustache upon it. Setting aside this 













138 


THE HILL-SIDE 

mark of mature manhood, you might have considered 
Cousin Eustace just as much a boy as when you first 
became acquainted with him. He was as merry, as 
playful, as good-humored, as light of foot and of spir¬ 
its, and equally a favorite with the little folks, as he 
had always been. This expedition up the mountain 
was entirely of his contrivance. All the way up the 
steep ascent, he had encouraged the elder children 
with his cheerful voice ; and when Dandelion, Cow¬ 
slip, and Squash-Blossom grew weary, he had lugged 
them along, alternately, on his back. In this manner, 
they had passed through the orchards and pastures on 
the lower part of the hill, and had reached the wood, 
which extends thence towards its bare summit. 

The month of May, thus far, had been more amia¬ 
ble than it often is, and this was as sweet and genial 
a day as the heart of man or child could wish. In 
their progress up the hill, the small people had found 
enough of violets, blue and white, and some that were 
as golden as if they had the touch of Midas on them. 
That sociablest of flowers, the little Houstonia, was 
very abundant. It is a flower that never lives alone, 
but which loves its own kind, and is always fond of 
dwelling with a great many friends and relatives 
around it. Sometimes you see a family of them, cov¬ 
ering a space no bigger than the palm of your hand ; 
and sometimes a large community, whitening a whole 
tract of pasture, and all keeping one another in cheer- 
ful heart and life. 

Within the verge of the wood there were colum¬ 
bines, looking more pale than red, because they were 
so modest, and had thought proper to seclude them¬ 
selves too anxiously from the sun. There were wild 
geraniums, too, and a thousand white blossoms of the 


THE HILL-SIDE 


139 


strawberry. The trailing arbutus was not yet quite 
out of bloom; but it hid its precious flowers under the 
last year’s withered forest-leaves, as carefully as a 
mother-bird hides its little young ones. It knew, I 
suppose, how beautiful and sweet-scented they were. 
So cunning was their concealment, that the children 
sometimes smelt the delicate richness of their perfume 
before they knew whence it proceeded. 

Amid so much new life, it was strange and truly 
pitiful to behold, here and there, in the fields and 
pastures, the hoary periwigs of dandelions that had 
already gone to seed. They had done with summer 
before the summer came. Within those small globes 
of winged seeds it was autumn now ! 

Well, but we must not waste our valuable pages 
with any more talk about the spring-time and wild 
flowers. There is something, we hope, more interest¬ 
ing to be talked about. If you look at the group of 
children, you may see them all gathered around Eus¬ 
tace Bright, who, sitting on the stump of a tree, seems 
to be just beginning a story. The fact is, the younger 
part of the troop have found out that it takes rather 
too many of their short strides to measure the long as¬ 
cent of the hill. Cousin Eustace, therefore, has de¬ 
cided to leave Sweet Fern, Cowslip, Squash-Blossom, 
and Dandelion, at this point, midway up, until the re¬ 
turn of the rest of the party from the summit. And 
because they complain a little, and do not quite like to 
stay behind, he gives them some apples out of his 
pocket, and proposes to tell them a very pretty story. 
Hereupon they brighten up, and change their grieved 
looks into the broadest kind of smiles. 

As for the story, I was there to hear it, hidden be¬ 
hind a bush, and shall tell it over to you in the pages 
that come next. 



THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 


One evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and 
his old wife Baucis sat at their cottage-door, enjoying 
the calm and beautiful sunset. They had already 
eaten their frugal supper, and intended now to spend 
a quiet hour or two before bedtime. So they talked 
together about their garden, and their cow, and their 
bees, and their grapevine, which clambered over the 
cottage-wall, and on which the grapes were beginning 
to turn purple. But the rude shouts of children, and 
the fierce barking of dogs, in the village near at hand, 
grew louder and louder, until, at last, it was hardly 
possible for Baucis and Philemon to hear each other 
speak. 

“ Ah, wife,” cried Philemon, “ I fear some poor 
traveller is seeking hospitality among our neighbors 
yonder, and, instead of giving him food and lodging, 
they have set their dogs at him, as their custom is ! ” 

“ Well-a-day! ” answered old Baucis, “I do wish 
our neighbors felt a little more kindness for their fel¬ 
low-creatures. And only think of bringing up their 
children in this naughty way, and patting them on the 
head when they fling stones at strangers ! ” 

“ Those children will never come to any good,” 
said Philemon, shaking his white head. “ To tell you 
the truth, wife, I should not wonder if some terrible 
thing were to happen to all the people in the village, 
unless they mend their manners. But, as for you and 
me, so long as Providence affords us a crust of bread, 








THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 141 

let us be ready to give half to any poor, homeless 
stranger, that may come along and need it.” 

“ That’s right, husband! ” said Baucis. “ So we 
will! ” 

These old folks, you must know, were quite poor, 
and had to work pretty hard for a living. Old Phile¬ 
mon toiled diligently in his garden, while Baucis was 
always busy with her distaff, or making a little butter 
and cheese with their cow’s milk, or doing one thing 
and another about the cottage. Their food was sel¬ 
dom anything but bread, milk, and vegetables, with 
sometimes a portion of honey from their beehive, and 
now and then a bunch of grapes, that had ripened 
against the cottage wall. But they were two of the 
kindest old people in the world, and would cheerfully 
have gone without their dinners, any day, rather than 
refuse a slice of their brown loaf, a cup of new milk, 
and a spoonful of honey, to the weary traveller who 
might pause before their door. They felt as if such 
guests had a sort of holiness, and that they ought, 
therefore, to treat them better and more bountifully 
than their own selves. 

Their cottage stood on a rising ground, at some 
short distance from a village, which lay in a hollow 
valley, that was about half a mile in breadth. This 
valley, in past ages, when the world was new, had 
probably been the bed of a lake. There, fishes had 
glided to and fro in the depths, and water-weeds had 
grown along the margin, and trees and hills had seen 
their reflected images in the broad and peaceful mir¬ 
ror. But, as the waters subsided, men had cultivated 
the soil, and built houses on it, so that it was now a 
fertile spot, and bore no traces of the ancient lake, ex¬ 
cept a very small brook, which meandered through the 


142 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 

midst of tlie village, and supplied the inhabitants with 
water. The valley had been dry land so long, that 
oaks had sprung up, and grown great and high, and 
perished with old age, and been succeeded by others, 
as tall and stately as the first. Never was there a 
prettier or more fruitful valley. The very sight of the 
plenty around them should have made the inhabitants 
kind and gentle, and ready to show their gratitude to 
Providence by doing good to their fellow-creatures. 

But, we are sorry to say, the people of this lovely 
village were not worthy to dwell in a spot on which 
Heaven had smiled so beneficently. They were a very 
selfish and hard-hearted people, and had no pity for 
the poor, nor sympathy with the homeless. They 
would only have laughed, had anybody told them that 
human beings owe a debt of love to one another, be¬ 
cause there is no other method of paying the debt of 
love and care which all of us owe to Providence. You 
will hardly believe what I am going to tell you. These 
naughty people taught their children to be no better 
than themselves, and used to clap their hands, by way 
of encouragement, when they saw the little boys and 
girls run after some poor stranger, shouting at his 
heels, and pelting him with stones. They kept large 
and fierce dogs, and whenever a traveller ventured to 
show himself in the village street, this pack of disa¬ 
greeable curs scampered to meet him, barking, snarl¬ 
ing, and showing their teeth. Then they would seize 
him by his leg, or by his clothes, just as it happened; 
and if he were ragged when he came, he was generally 
a pitiable object before he had time to run away. This 
was a very terrible thing to poor travellers, as you may 
suppose, especially when they chanced to be sick, or 
feeble, or lame, or old. Such persons (if they once 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 143 

knew how badly these unkind people, and their un¬ 
kind children and curs, were in the habit of behav¬ 
ing) would go miles and miles out of their way, rather 
than try to pass through the village again. 

What made the matter seem worse, if possible, was 
that when rich persons came in their chariots, or rid¬ 
ing on beautiful horses, with their servants in rich liv¬ 
eries attending on them, nobody could be more civil 
and obsequious than the inhabitants of the village. 
They would take off their hats, and make the hum¬ 
blest bows you ever saw. If the children were rude, 
they were pretty certain to get their ears boxed ; and 
as for the dogs, if a single cur in the pack presumed 
to yelp, his master instantly beat him with a club, and 
tied him up without any supper. This would have 
been all very well, only it proved that the villagers 
cared much about the money that a stranger had in 
his pocket, and nothing whatever for the human soul, 
which lives equally in the beggar and the prince. 

So now you can understand why old Philemon 
spoke so sorrowfully, when he heard the shouts of the 
children and the barking of the dogs, at the farther 
extremity of the village street. There was a confused 
din, which lasted a good while, and seemed to pass 
quite through the breadth of the valley. 

“ I never heard the dogs so loud! ” observed the 
good old man. 

“ Nor the children so rude ! ” answered his good old 
wife. 

They sat shaking their heads, one to another, while 
the noise came nearer and nearer; until, at the foot of 
the little eminence on which their cottage stood, they 
saw two travellers approaching on foot. Close behind 
them came the fierce dogs, snarling at their very heels. 


144 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


A little farther off, ran a crowd of children, who sent 
up shrill cries, and flung stones at the two strangers, 
with all their might. Once or twice, the younger of 
the two men (he was a slender and very active figure) 
turned about and drove back the dogs with a staff 
which he carried in his hand. His companion, who 
was a very tall person, walked calmly along, as if dis¬ 
daining to notice either the naughty children, or the 
pack of curs, whose manners the children seemed to 
imitate. 

Both of the travellers were very humbly clad, and 
looked as if they might not have money enough in 
their pockets to pay for a night’s lodging. And this, 
I am afraid, was the reason why the villagers had al¬ 
lowed their children and dogs to treat them so rudely. 

“ Come, wife,” said Philemon to Baucis, “ let us go 
and meet these poor people. No doubt, they feel ah 
most too heavy-hearted to climb the hill.” 

“ Go you and meet them,” answered Baucis, “ while 
I make haste within doors, and see whether we can get 
them anything for supper. A comfortable bowl of 
bread and milk would do wonders towards raising 
their spirits.” 

Accordingly, she hastened into the cottage. Phile¬ 
mon, on his part, went forward, and extended his 
hand with so hospitable an aspect that there was no 
need of saying what nevertheless he did say, in the 
heartiest tone imaginable, — 

“ Welcome, strangers ! welcome ! ” 

“ Thank you ! ” replied the younger of the two, in a 
lively kind of way, notwithstanding his weariness and 
trouble. “ This is quite another greeting than we 
have met with yonder in the village. Pray, why do 
you live in such a bad neighborhood ? ” 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 145 

“ Ah! ” observed old Philemon, with a quiet and 
benign smile, “ Providence put me here, I hope, among 
other reasons, in order that I may make you what 
amends I can for the inhospitality of my neighbors.” 

“ Well said, old father! ” cried the traveller, laugh¬ 
ing ; “ and, if the truth must be told, my companion 
and myself need some amends. Those children (the 
little rascals !) have bespattered us finely with their 
mud-balls; and one of the curs has torn my cloak, 
which was ragged enough already. But I took him 
across the muzzle with my staff; and I think you 
may have heard him yelp, even thus far off.” 

Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits ; 
nor, indeed, would you have fancied, by the traveller’s 
look and manner, that he was weary with a long day’s 
journey, besides being disheartened by rough treat¬ 
ment at the end of it. He was dressed in rather an 
odd way, with a sort of cap on his head, the brim of 
which stuck out over both ears. Though it was a 
summer evening, he wore a cloak, which he kept wrapt 
closely about him, perhaps because his under garments 
were shabby. Philemon perceived, too, that he had 
on a singular pair of shoes ; but, as it was now grow¬ 
ing dusk, and as the old man’s eyesight was none the 
sharpest, he could not precisely tell in what the 
strangeness consisted. One thing, certainly, seemed 
queer. The traveller was so wonderfully light and 
active, that it appeared as if his feet sometimes rose 
from the ground of their own accord, or could only be 
kept down by an effort. 

“ I used to be light-footed, in my youth,” said Phile¬ 
mon to the traveller. “ But I always found my feet 
grow heavier towards nightfall.” 

“There is nothing like a good staff to help one 
10 


VOL. IV. 


146 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


along,” answered the stranger; “ and I happen to have 
an excellent one, as you see.” 

This staff, in fact, was the oddest-looking staff that 
Philemon had ever beheld. It was made of olive- 
wood, and had something like a little pair of wings 
near the top. Two snakes, carved in the wood, were 
represented as twining themselves about the staff, and 
were so very skilfully executed that old Philemon 
(whose eyes, you know, were getting rather dim) al¬ 
most thought them alive, and that he could see them 
wriggling and twisting. 

“ A curious piece of work, sure enough ! ” said he. 

A staff with wings ! It would be an excellent kind 
of stick for a little boy to ride astride of ! ” 

By this time, Philemon and his two guests had 
reached the cottage door. 

“ Friends,” said the old man, “ sit down and rest 
yourselves here on this bench. My good wife Baucis 
has gone to see what you can have for supper. We 
are poor folks ; but you shall be welcome to whatever 
we have in the cupboard.” 

The younger stranger threw himself carelessly on 
the bench, letting his staff fall, as he did so. And 
here happened something rather marvellous, though 
trifling enough, too. The staff seemed to get up from 
the ground of its own accord, and, spreading its little 
pair of wings, it half hopped, half flew, and leaned 
itself against the wall of the cottage. There it stood 
quite still, except that the snakes continued to wriggle. 
But, in my private opinion, old Philemon’s eyesight 
had been playing him tricks again. 

Before he could ask any questions, the elder stran- 
ger drew his attention from the wonderful staff, b) 
speaking to him. 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 147 

“Was there not,” asked the stranger, in a remarka* 
bly deep tone of voice, “ a lake, in very ancient times, 
covering the spot where now stands yonder village ? ” 

“ Not in my day, friend,” answered Philemon ? 
“ and yet I am an old man, as you see. There were 
always the fields and meadows, just as they are now, 
and the old trees, and the little stream murmuring 
through the midst of the valley. My father, nor his 
father before him, ever saw it otherwise, so far as I 
know; and doubtless it will still be the same, when 
old Philemon shall be gone and forgotten! ” 

“ That is more than can be safely foretold,” ob¬ 
served the stranger; and there was something very 
stern in his deep voice. He shook his head, too, so 
that his dark and heavy curls were shaken with the 
movement. “ Since the inhabitants of yonder village 
have forgotten the affections and sympathies of their 
nature, it were better that the lake should be rippling 
over their dwellings again ! ” 

The traveller looked so stern, that Philemon was 
really almost frightened; the more so, that, at his 
frown, the twilight seemed suddenly to grow darker, 
and that, when he shook his head, there was a roll as 
of thunder in the air. 

But, in a moment afterwards, the stranger’s face be¬ 
came so kindly and mild, that the old man quite for¬ 
got his terror. Nevertheless, he could not help feeling 
that this elder traveller must be no ordinary person¬ 
age, although he happened now to be attired so hum¬ 
bly and to be journeying on foot. Not that Philemon 
fancied him a prince in disguise, or any character of 
that sort; but rather some exceedingly wise man, who 
went about the world in this poor garb, despising 
wealth and all worldly objects, and seeking everywhere 


148 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


to add a mite to his wisdom. This idea appeared the 
more probable, because, when Philemon raised his eyes 
to the stranger’s face, he seemed to see more thought 
there, in one look, than he could have studied out in a 
lifetime. 

While Baucis was getting the supper, the travellers 
both began to talk very sociably with Philemon. The 
younger, indeed, was extremely loquacious, and made 
such shrewd and witty remarks, that the good old man 
continually burst out a-laughing, and pronounced him 
the merriest fellow whom he had seen for many a day. 

“Pray, my young friend,” said he, as they grew 
familiar together, “ what may I call your name ? ” 

“ Why, I am very nimble, as you see,” answered the 
traveller. “ So, if you call me Quicksilver, the name 
will fit tolerably well.” 

“ Quicksilver ? Quicksilver ? ” repeated Philemon, 
looking in the traveller’s face, to see if he were mak¬ 
ing fun of him. “ It is a very odd name! And your 
companion there? Has he as strange a one?” 

“ You must ask the thunder to tell it you! ” replied 
Quicksilver, putting on a mysterious look. “No other 
voice is loud enough.” 

This remark, whether it were serious or in jest, 
might have caused Philemon to conceive a very great 
awe of the elder stranger, if, on venturing to gaze at 
him, he had not beheld so much beneficence in his 
visage. But, undoubtedly, here was the grandest fig¬ 
ure that ever sat so humbly beside a cottage door. 
When the stranger conversed, it was with gravity, and 
in such a way that Philemon felt irresistibly moved 
to tell him everything which he had most at heart. 
This is always the feeling that people have, when they 
meet with any one wise enough to comprehend all theii 
good and evil, and to despise not a tittle of it. 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 149 

But Philemon, simple and kind-hearted old man 
that he was, had not many secrets to disclose. He 
talked, however, quite garrulously, about the events 
of his past life, in the whole course of which he had 
never been a score of miles from this very spot. His 
wife Baucis and himself had dwelt in the cottage from 
their youth upward, earning their bread by honest la¬ 
bor, always poor, but still contented. He told what 
excellent butter and cheese Baucis made, and how nice 
were the vegetables which he raised in his garden. 
He said, too, that, because they loved one another so 
very much, it was the wish of both that death might 
not separate them, but that they should die, as they 
had lived, together. 

As the stranger listened, a smile beamed over his 
countenance, and made its expression as sweet as it 
was grand. 

“ You are a good old man,” said he to Philemon, 
“ and you have a good old wife to be your helpmeet. 
It is fit that your wish be granted.” 

And it seemed to Philemon, just then, as if the sun¬ 
set clouds threw up a bright flash from the west, and 
kindled a sudden light in the sky. 

Baucis had now got supper ready, and, coming to 
the door, began to make apologies for the poor fare 
which she was forced to set before her guests. 

“ Had we known you were coming,” said she, “ my 
good man and myself would have gone without a mor¬ 
sel, rather than you should lack a better supper. But 
I took the most part of to-day’s milk to make cheese; 
and our last loaf is already half eaten. Ah me! I 
never feel the sorrow of being poor, save when a poor 
traveller knocks at our door.” 

“ All will be very well *, do not trouble yourself, my 


150 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 

good dame,” replied the elder stranger, kindly. “ Aa 
honest, hearty welcome to a guest works miracles with 
the fare, and is capable of turning the coarsest food to 
nectar and ambrosia.” 

“ A welcome you shall have,” cried Baucis, “ and 
likewise a little honey that we happen to have left, 
and a bunch of purple grapes besides.” 

“ Why, Mother Baucis, it is a feast! ” exclaimed 
Quicksilver, laughing, “ an absolute feast! and you 
shall see how bravely I will play my part at it! I 
think I never felt hungrier in my life.” 

“ Mercy on us! ” whispered Baucis to her husband. 
“ If the young man has such a terrible appetite, I am 
afraid there will not be half enough supper! ” 

They all went into the cottage. 

And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you some¬ 
thing that will make you open your eyes very wide ? 
It is really one of the oddest circumstances in the 
whole story. Quicksilver’s staff, you recollect, had 
set itself up against the wall of the cottage. Well; 
when its master entered the door, leaving this wonder¬ 
ful staff behind, what should it do but immediately 
spread its little wings, and go hopping and fluttering 
up the door steps! Tap, tap, went the staff, on the 
kitchen floor ; nor did it rest until it had stood itself 
on end, with the greatest gravity and decorum, beside 
Quicksilver’s chair. Old Philemon, however, as well 
as his wife, was so taken up in attending to their 
guests, that no notice was given to what the staff had 
been about. 

As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper 
for two hungry travellers. In the middle of the table 
was the remnant of a brown loaf, with a piece of 
cheese on one side of it, and a dish of honeycomb on 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 151 


the other. There was a pretty good bunch of grapes 
for each of the guests. A moderately sized earthen 
pitcher, nearly full of milk, stood at a corner of the 
board; and when Baucis had filled two bowls, and set 
them before the strangers, only a little milk remained/ 
in the bottom of the pitcher. Alas! it is a very sad 
business, when a bountiful heart finds itself pinched) 
and squeezed among narrow circumstances. Poor' 
Baucis kept wishing that she might starve for a week 
to come, if it were possible, by so doing, to provide 
these hungry folks a more plentiful supper. 

And, since the supper was so exceedingly small, she 
could not help wishing that their appetites had not 
been quite so large. Why, at their very first sitting 
down, the travellers both drank off all the milk in 
their two bowls, at a draught. 

“A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you 
please,” said Quicksilver. “The day has been hot, 
and I am very much athirst.” 

“ Now, my dear people,” answered Baucis, in great 
confusion, “ I am so sorry and ashamed! But the 
truth is, there is hardly a drop more milk in the 
pitcher. O husband ! husband ! why did n’t we go 
without our supper ? ” 

“ Why, it appears to me,” cried Quicksilver, start¬ 
ing up from table and taking the pitcher by the han¬ 
dle, “ it really appears to me that matters are not quite 
so bad as you represent them. Here is certainly more 
milk in the pitcher.” 

So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, 
he proceeded to fill, not only his own bowl, but his 
companion’s likewise, from the pitcher, that was sup¬ 
posed to be almost empty. The good woman could 
scarcely believe her eyes. She had certainly poured 


152 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 

out nearly all the milk, and had peeped in afterwards, 
and seen the bottom of the pitcher, as she set it down 
upon the table. 

“ But I am old,” thought Baucis to herself, “ and 
apt to be forgetful. I suppose I must have made a 
mistake. At all events, the pitcher cannot help being- 
empty now, after filling the bowls twice over.” 

“ What excellent milk ! ” observed Quicksilver, 
after quaffing the contents of the second bowl. “ Ex¬ 
cuse me, my kind hostess, but I must really ask you 
for a little more.” 

Now Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could see 
anything, that Quicksilver had turned the pitcher up¬ 
side down, and consequently had poured out every 
drop of milk, in filling the last bowl. Of course, 
there could not possibly be any left. However, in 
order to let him know precisely how the case was, she 
lifted the pitcher, and made a gesture as if pouring 
milk into Quicksilver’s bowl, but without the remotest 
idea that any milk would stream forth. What was 
her surprise, therefore, when such an abundant cascade 
fell bubbling into the bowl, that it was immediately 
filled to the brim, and overflowed upon the table! The 
two snakes that were twisted about Quicksilver’s staff 
(but neither Baucis nor Philemon happened to observe 
this circumstance) stretched out their heads, and be¬ 
gan to lap up the spilt milk. 

And then what a delicious fragrance the milk had ! 
It seemed as if Philemon’s only cow must have pas¬ 
tured, that day, on the richest herbage that could be 
found anywhere in the world. I only wish that each 
of you, my beloved little souls, could have a bowl of 
such nice milk, at supper-time ! 

“And now a slice of your brown loaf, Mother 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 153 

Baucis,” said Quicksilver, “ and a little of that 
honey! ” 

Baucis cut him a slice, accordingly; and though the 
loaf, when she and her husband ate of it, had been 
rather too dry and crusty to be palatable, it was now as 
light and moist as if but a few hours out of the oven. 
Tasting a crumb, which had fallen on the table, she 
found it more delicious than bread ever was before, 
and could hardly believe that it was a loaf of her own 
kneading and baking. Yet, what other loaf could it 
possibly be ? 

But, oh the honey! I may just as well let it alone, 
without trying to describe how exquisitely it smelt and 
looked. Its color was that of the purest and most 
transparent gold; and it had the odor of a thousand 
flowers; but of such flowers as never grew in an 
earthly garden, and to seek which the bees must have 
flown high above the clouds. The wonder is, that, 
after alighting on a flower-bed of so delicious fra¬ 
grance and immortal bloom, they should have been 
content to fly down again to their hive in Philemon’s 
garden. Never was such honey tasted, seen, or smelt. 
The perfume floated around the kitchen, and made 
it so delightful, that, had you closed your eyes, you 
would instantly have forgotten the low ceiling and 
smoky walls, and have fancied yourself in an arbor, 
with celestial honeysuckles creeping over it. 

Although good Mother Baucis was a simple old 
dame, she could not but think that there was some¬ 
thing rather out of the common way, in all that had 
been going on. So, after helping the guests to bread 
and honey, and laying a bunch of grapes by each of 
their plates, she sat down by Philemon, and told him 
what she had seen, in a whisper. 


154 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


“ Did you ever hear the like ? ” asked she. 

“No, I never did,” answered Philemon, with a 
smile. “ And I rather think, my dear old wife, you 
have been walking about in a sort of a dream. If I 
had poured out the milk, I should have seen through 
the business at once. There happened to be a little 
more in the pitcher than you thought, — that is all.” 

“ Ah, husband,” said Baucis, “ say what you will, 
these are very uncommon people.” 

“ Well, well,” replied Philemon, still smiling, “per¬ 
haps they are. They certainly do look as if they had 
seen better days; and I am heartily glad to see them 
making so comfortable a supper.” 

Each of the guests had now taken his bunch of 
grapes upon his plate. Baucis (who rubbed her eyes, 
in order to see the more clearly) was of opinion that 
the clusters had grown larger and richer, and that 
each separate grape seemed to be on the point of 
bursting with ripe juice. It was entirely a mystery 
to her how such grapes could ever have been produced 
from the old stunted vine that climbed against the 
cottage wall. 

“ Very admirable grapes these!” observed Quick¬ 
silver, as he swallowed one after another, without ap¬ 
parently diminishing his cluster. “ Pray, my good 
host, whence did you gather them ? ” 

“ From my own vine,” answered Philemon. “ You 
may see one of its branches twisting across the window, 
yonder. But wife and I never thought the grapes very 
fine ones.” 

“ I never tasted better,” said the guest. “ Another 
cup of this delicious milk, if you please, and I shall 
then have supped better than a prince.” 

This time, old Philemon bestirred himself, and took 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 155 


up the pitcher ; for he was curious to discover whether 
there was any reality in the marvels which Baucis had 
whispered to him. He knew that his good old wife 
was incapable of falsehood, and that she was seldom 
mistaken in what she supposed to be true ; but this 
was so very singular a case, that he wanted to see into 
it with his own eyes. On taking up the pitcher, there¬ 
fore, he slyly peeped into it, and was fully satisfied 
that it contained not so much as a single drop. All at 
once, however, he beheld a little white fountain, which 
gushed up from the bottom of the pitcher, and speed¬ 
ily filled it to the brim with foaming and deliciously 
fragrant milk. It was lucky that Philemon, in his 
surprise, did not drop the miraculous pitcher from his 
hand. 

“ Who are ye, wonder-working strangers! ” cried 
he, even more bewildered than his wife had been. 

“Your guests, my good Philemon, and your friends,” 
replied the elder traveller, in his mild, deep voice, that 
had something at once sweet and awe-inspiring in it. 
“ Give me likewise a cup of the milk ; and may your 
pitcher never be empty for kind Baucis and yourself, 
any more than for the needy wayfarer ! ” 

The supper being now over, the strangers requested 
to be shown to their place of repose. The old people 
would gladly have talked with them a little longer, and 
have expressed the wonder which they felt, and their 
delight at finding the poor and meagre supper prove 
so much better and more abundant than they hoped. 
But the elder traveller had inspired them with such 
reverence, that they dared not ask him any questions. 
And when Philemon drew Quicksilver aside, and in¬ 
quired how under the sun a fountain of milk could 
have got into an old earthen pitcher, this latter person* 
age pointed to his staff. 


156 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


“ There is the whole mystery of the affair,” quoth 
Quicksilver ; “ and if you can make it out, I ’ll thank 
you to let me know. I can’t tell what to make of my 
staff. It is always playing such odd tricks as this ; 
sometimes getting me a supper, and, quite as often, 
stealing it away. If I had any faith in such nonsense, 
I should say the stick was bewitched! ” 

He said no more, but looked so slyly in their faces, 
that they rather fancied he was laughing at them. The 
magic staff went hopping at his heels, as Quicksilver 
quitted the room. When left alone, the good old 
couple spent some little time in conversation about the 
events of the evening, and then lay down on the floor, 
and fell fast asleep. They had given up their sleep¬ 
ing-room to the guests, and had no other bed for 
themselves, save these planks, which I wish had been 
as soft as their own hearts. 

The old man and his wife were stirring betimes in 
the morning, and the strangers likewise arose with the 
sun, and made their preparations to depart. Philemon 
hospitably entreated them to remain a little longer, 
until Baucis could milk the cow, and bake a cake upon 
the hearth, and, perhaps, find them a few fresh eggs, 
for breakfast. The guests, however, seemed to think 
it better to accomplish a good part of their journey 
before the heat of the day should come on. They, 
therefore, persisted in setting out immediately, but 
asked Philemon and Baucis to walk forth with them 
a short distance, and show them the road which they 
were to take. 

So they all four issued from the cottage, chatting to¬ 
gether like old friends. It was very remarkable, in¬ 
deed, how familiar the old couple insensibly grew with 
the elder traveller, and how their good and simple spir- 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 157 

its melted into his, even as two drops of water would 
melt into the illimitable ocean. And as for Quicksil¬ 
ver, with his keen, quick, laughing wits, he appeared 
to discover every little thought that but peeped into 
their minds, before they suspected it themselves. They 
sometimes wished, it is true, that he had not been quite 
so quick-witted, and also that he would fling away his 
staff, which looked so mysteriously mischievous, with 
the snakes always writhing about it. But then, again, 
Quicksilver showed himself so very good-humored, 
that they would have been rejoiced to keep him in their 
cottage, staff, snakes, and all, every day, and the whole 
day long. 

“ Ah me! Well-a-day! ” exclaimed Philemon, when 
they had walked a little way from their door. “ If our 
neighbors only knew what a blessed thing it is to show 
hospitality to strangers, they would tie up all their 
dogs, and never allow their children to fling another 
stone.” 

“ It is a sin and shame for them to behave so, — 
that it is! ” cried good old Baucis, vehemently. “ And 
l mean to go this very day, and tell some of them 
what naughty people they are ! ” 

“ I fear,” remarked Quicksilver, slyly smiling, “ that 
you will find none of them at home.” 

The elder traveller’s brow, just then, assumed such 
a grave, stern, and awful grandeur, yet serene withal, 
that neither Baucis nor Philemon dared to speak a 
word. They gazed reverently into his face, as if they 
had been gazing at the sky. 

“ When men do not feel towards the humblest stran¬ 
ger as if he were a brother,” said the traveller, in tones 
so deep that they sounded like those of an organ, “they 
are unworthy to exist on earth, which was created as 
the abode of a great human brotherhood 1 ” 


158 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


“ And, by the by, my dear old people,” cried Quick 
silver, with the liveliest look of fun and mischief in 
his eyes, “ where is this same village that you talk 
about? On which side of us does it lie ? Methinks 
I do not see it hereabouts.” 

Philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, 
where, at sunset, only the day before, they had seen 
the meadows, the houses, the gardens, the clumps of 
trees, the wide, green-margined street, with children 
playing in it, and all the tokens of business, enjoy¬ 
ment, and prosperity. But what was their astonish¬ 
ment ! There was no longer any appearance of a vil¬ 
lage ! Even the fertile vale, in the hollow of which it 
lay, had ceased to have existence. In its stead, they 
beheld the broad, blue surface of a lake, which filled 
the great basin of the valley from brim to brim, and re¬ 
flected the surrounding hills in its bosom with as tran¬ 
quil an image as if it had been there ever since the 
creation of the world. For an instant, the lake re¬ 
mained perfectly smooth. Then, a little breeze sprang 
up, and caused the water to dance, glitter, and sparkle 
in the early sunbeams, and to dash, with a pleasant 
rippling murmur, against the hither shore. 

The lake seemed so strangely familiar, that the old 
couple were greatly perplexed, and felt as if they could 
only have been dreaming about a village having lain 
there. But, the next moment, they remembered the 
vanished dwellings, and the faces and characters of 
the inhabitants, far too distinctly for a dream. The 
village had been there yesterday, and now was gone! 

“ Alas ! ” cried these kind-hearted old people, “ what 
has become of our poor neighbors ? ” 

“ They exist no longer as men and women,” said the 
elder traveller, in his grand and deep voice, while a 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 159 

roll of thunder seemed to echo it at a distance. “ There 
was neither use nor beauty in such a life as theirs ; for 
they never softened or sweetened the hard lot of mor¬ 
tality by the exercise of kindly affections between man 
and man. They retained no image of the better life 
in their bosoms ; therefore, the lake, that was of old, 
has spread itself forth again, to reflect the sky ! ” 
“And as for those foolish people,” said Quicksilver, 
with his mischievous smile, “ they are all transformed 
to fishes. There needed but little change, for they 
Were already a scaly set of rascals, and the coldest- 
blooded beings in existence. So, kind Mother Baucis, 
whenever you or your husband have an appetite for a 
dish of broiled trout, he can throw in a line, and pull 
out half a dozen of your old neighbors! ” 

“ Ah,” cried Baucis, shuddering, “ I would not, for 
the world, put one of them on the gridiron ! ” 

“ No,” added Philemon, making a wry face, “ we 
could never relish them! ” 

“ As for you, good Philemon,” continued the elder 
traveller, — “ and you, kind Baucis, — you, with your 
scanty means, have mingled so much heartfelt hospi¬ 
tality with your entertainment of the homeless stranger, 
that the milk became an inexhaustible fount of nec¬ 
tar, and the brown loaf and the honey were ambrosia. 
Thus, the divinities have feasted, at your board, off 
the same viands that supply their banquets on Olym¬ 
pus. You have done well, my dear old friends. Where¬ 
fore, request whatever favor you have most at heart, 
and it is granted.” 

Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and 
then, — I know not which of the two it was who 
spoke, but that one uttered the desire of both then- 
hearts. 


160 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


“ Let us live together, while we live, and leave the 
world at the same instant, when we die ! For we have 
always loved one another! ” 

“ Be it so! ” replied the stranger, with majestic 
kindness. “ Now, look towards your cottage! ” 

They did so. But what was their surprise on he> 
holding a tall edifice of white marble, with a wide- 
open portal, occupying the spot where their humble 
residence had so lately stood ! 

“ There is your home,” said the stranger, beneficently 
smiling on them both. “ Exercise your hospitality in 
yonder palace as freely as in the poor hovel to which 
you welcomed us last evening.” 

The old folks fell on their knees to thank him; but, 
behold ! neither he nor Quicksilver was there. 

So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in 
the marble palace, and spent their time, with vast sat¬ 
isfaction to themselves, in making everybody jolly and 
comfortable who happened to pass that way. The 
milk-pitcher, I must not forget to say, retained its mar¬ 
vellous quality of being never empty, when it was de¬ 
sirable to have it full. Whenever an honest, good- 
humored, and free-hearted guest took a draught from 
this pitcher, he invariably found it the sweetest and 
most invigorating fluid that ever ran down his throat. 
But, if a cross and disagreeable curmudgeon happened 
to sip, he was pretty certain to twist his visage into a 
hard knot, and pronounce it a pitcher of sour milk! 

Thus the old couple lived in their palace a great, great 
while, and grew older and older, and very old indeed. 
At length, however, there came a summer morning 
when Philemon and Baucis failed to make their ap¬ 
pearance, as on other mornings, with one hospitable 
smile overspreading both their pleasant faces, to invite 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 161 

the guests of over-night to breakfast. The guests 
searched everywhere, from top to bottom of the spa¬ 
cious palace, and all to no purpose. But, after a great 
deal of perplexity, they espied, in front of the portal, 
two venerable trees, which nobody could remember to 
have seen there the day before. Yet there they stood, 
with their roots fastened deep into the soil, and a huge 
breadth of foliage overshadowing the whole front of 
the edifice. One was an oak, and the other a linden- 
tree. Their boughs—it was strange and beautiful to 
see — were intertwined together, and embraced one 
another, so that each tree seemed to live in the other 
tree’s bosom much more than in its own. 

While the guests were marvelling how these trees, 
that must have required at least a century to grow, 
could have come to be so tall and venerable in a sin¬ 
gle night, a breeze sprang up, and set their intermin¬ 
gled boughs astir. And then there was a deep, broad 
murmur in the air, as if the two mysterious trees were 
speaking. 

“ I am old Philemon ! ” murmured the oak. 

“ I am old Baucis ! ” murmured the linden-tree. 

But, as the breeze grew stronger, the trees both 
spoke at once,— “Philemon! Baucis! Baucis! Phil¬ 
emon ! ” — as if one were both and both were one, and 
talking together in the depths of their mutual heart. 
It was plain enough to perceive that the good old 
couple had renewed their age, and were now to spend 
a quiet and delightful hundred years or so, Philemon 
as an oak, and Baucis as a linden-tree. And oh, what; 
a hospitable shade did they fling around them. When¬ 
ever a wayfarer paused beneath it, he heard a pleasant 
whisper of the leaves above his head, and wondered 

VOL. IV. 11 


162 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


how the sound should so much resemble words like 
these: — 

“ Welcome, welcome, dear traveller, welcome ! ” 

And some kind soul, that knew what would have 
pleased old Baucis and old Philemon best, built a cir¬ 
cular seat around both their trunks, where, for a great 
while afterwards, the weary, and the hungry, and the 
thirsty used to repose themselves, and quaff milk abun¬ 
dantly out of the miraculous pitcher. 

And I wish, for all our sakes, that we had the 
pitcher here now I 



THE HILL-SIDE. 


AFTER THE STORY. 

“ How much did the pitcher hold ? ” asked Sweet 
Fern. 

“ It did not hold quite a quart,” answered the stu¬ 
dent ; “ but you might keep pouring milk out of it, 
till you should fill a hogshead, if you pleased. The 
truth is, it would run on forever, and not be dry even 
at midsummer, — which is more than can be said of 
yonder rill, that goes babbling down the hill-side.” 

“ And what has become of the pitcher now ?” in¬ 
quired the little boy. 

“ It was broken, I am sorry to say, about twenty- 
five thousand years ago,” replied Cousin Eustace. 
“ The people mended it as well as they could, but, 
though it would hold milk pretty well, it was never 
afterwards known to fill itself of its own accord. So, 
you see, it was no better than any other cracked 
earthen pitcher.” 

“ What a pity! ” cried all the children at once. 

The respectable dog Ben had accompanied the par¬ 
ty, as did likewise a half-grown Newfoundland pup¬ 
py, who went by the name of Bruin, because he was 
just as black as a bear. Ben, being elderly, and of 
very circumspect habits, was respectfully requested, 
by Cousin Eustace, to stay behind with the four little 
children, in order to keep them out of mischief. As 
for black Bruin, who was himself nothing but a child, 



164 


THE HILL-SIDE 


the student thought it best to take him along, lest, in 
his rude play with the other children, he should trip 
them up, and send them rolling and tumbling down 
the hill. Advising Cowslip, Sweet Fern, Dandelion, 
and Squash-Blossom to sit pretty still, in the spot 
where he left them, the student, with Primrose and 
the elder children, began to ascend, and were soon out 
of sight among the trees. 



THE CHIMERA. 


BALD-SUMMIT. 

INTRODUCTORY TO u THE CHIMERA.” 

Upward, along the steep and wooded hill-side, went 
Eustace Bright and his companions. The trees were 
not yet in full leaf, but had budded forth sufficiently 
to throw an airy shadow, while the sunshine filled 
them with green light. There were moss-grown rocks, 
half hidden among the old, brown, fallen leaves; there 
were rotten tree-trunks, lying at full length where 
they had long ago fallen ; there were decayed boughs, 
that had been shaken down by the wintry gales, and 
were scattered everywhere about. But still, though 
these things looked so aged, the aspect of the wood 
was that of the newest life; for, whichever way you 
turned your eyes, something fresh and green was 
springing forth, so as to be ready for the summer. 

At last, the young people reached the upper verge 
of the wood, and found themselves almost at the sum¬ 
mit of the hill. It was not a peak, nor a great round 
ball, but a pretty wide plain, or table-land, with a 
house and barn upon it, at some distance. That house 
was the home of a solitary family; and oftentimes the 
clouds, whence fell the rain, and whence the snow¬ 
storm drifted down into the valley, hung lower than 
this bleak and lonely dwelling-place. 














166 


BALD-SUMMIT 


On the highest point of the hill was a heap of 
stones, in the centre of which was stuck a long pole, 
with a little flag fluttering at the end of it. Eustace 
led the children thither, and bade them look around, 
and see how large a tract of our beautiful world they 
could take in at a glance. And their eyes grew wider 
as they looked. 

Monument Mountain, to the southward, was still in 
the centre of the scene, but seemed to have sunk and 
subsided, so that it was now but an undistinguished 
member of a large family of hills. Beyond it, the 
Taconic range looked higher and bulkier than before. 
Our pretty lake was seen, with all its little bays and 
inlets; and not that alone, but two or three new lakes 
were opening their blue eyes to the sun. Several white 
villages, each with its steeple, were scattered about in 
the distance. There were so many farm-houses, with 
their acres of woodland, pasture, mowing-fields, and 
tillage, that the children could hardly make room in 
their minds to receive all these different objects. 
There, too, was Tanglewood, which they had hitherto 
thought such an important apex of the world. It now 
occupied so small a space, that they gazed far beyond 
it, and on either side, and searched a good while 
with all their eyes, before discovering whereabout it 
stood. 

White, fleecy clouds were hanging in the air, and 
threw the dark spots of their shadow here and there 
over the landscape. But, by and by, the sunshine was 
where the shadow had been, and the shadow was some¬ 
where else. 

Far to the westward was a range of blue mountains, 
which Eustace Bright told the children were the Cats¬ 
kills. Among those misty hills, he said, was a spot 


BALD-SUMMIT 


167 


where some old Dutchmen were playing an everlasting 
game of ninepins, and where an idle fellow, whose 
name was Rip Van Winkle, had fallen asleep, and 
slept twenty years at a stretch. The children eagerly 
besought Eustace to tell them all about this wonder¬ 
ful affair. But the student replied that the story had 
been told once already, and better than it ever could 
be told again; and that nobody would have a right to 
alter a word of it, until it should have grown as old 
as “ The Gorgon’s Head,” and “ The Three Golden 
Apples,” and the rest of those miraculous legends. 

“ At least,” said Periwinkle, “ while we rest our¬ 
selves here, and are looking about us, you can tell us 
another of your own stories.” 

“ Yes, Cousin Eustace,” cried Primrose, “ I advise 
you to tell us a story here. Take some lofty subject 
or other, and see if your imagination will not come up 
to it. Perhaps the mountain air may make you poet¬ 
ical, for once. And no matter how strange and won¬ 
derful the story may be, now that we are up among 
the clouds, we can believe anything.” 

“ Can you believe,” asked Eustace, “ that there was 
once a winged horse ? ” 

“ Yes,” said saucy Primrose; “ but I am afraid you 
will never be able to catch him.” 

“ For that matter, Primrose,” rejoined the student, 
* I might possibly catch Pegasus, and get upon his 
back, too, as well as a dozen other fellows that I know 
of. At any rate, here is a story about him; and, of 
all places in the world, it ought certainly to be told 
upon a mountain-top.” 

So, sitting on the pile of stones, while the children 
clustered themselves at its base, Eustace fixed his 
eyes on a white cloud that was sailing by, and began 
as follows. 



THE CHIMERA. 

Once, in the old, old times (for all the strange 
things which I tell you about happened long before 
anybody can remember), a fountain gushed out of a 
hill-side, in the marvellous land of Greece. And, for 
aught I know, after so many thousand years, it is still 
gushing out of the very selfsame spot. At any rate, 
there was the pleasant fountain, welling freshly forth 
and sparkling adown the hill-side, in the golden sunset, 
when a handsome young man named Bellerophon drew 
near its margin. In his hand he held a bridle, studded 
with brilliant gems, and adorned with a golden bit. 
Seeing an old man, and another of middle age, and a 
little boy, near the fountain, and likewise a maiden, 
who was dipping up some of the water in a pitcher, he 
paused, and begged that he might refresh himself with 
a draught. 

“ This is very delicious water,” he said to the 
maiden as he rinsed and filled her pitcher, after drink¬ 
ing out of it. “ Will you be kind enough to tell me 
whether the fountain has any name ? ” 

“ Yes ; it is called the Fountain of Pirene,” an* 
swered the maiden; and then she added, “ My grand* 
mother has told me that this clear fountain was once a 
beautiful woman ; and when her son was killed by the 
arrows of the huntress Diana, she melted all away into 
tears. And so the water, which you find so cool and 
sweet, is the sorrow of that poor mother’s heart! ” 

“ I should not have dreamed,” observed the young 















BELLEROPHON AT THE FOUNTAIN OF PIRENE 






THE CHIMERA 169 

stranger, “that so clear a well-spring, with its gush 
and gurgle, and its cheery dance out of the shade 
into the sunlight, had so much as one tear-drop in its 
bosom! And this, then, is Pirene ? I thank you, 
pretty maiden, for telling me its name. I have come 
from a far-away country to find this very spot.” 

A middle-aged country fellow (he had driven his 
cow to drink out of the spring) stared hard at young 
Bellerophon, and at the handsome bridle which he car¬ 
ried in his hand. 

“ The water-courses must be getting low, friend, in 
your part of the world,” remarked he, “ if you come 
so far only to find the Fountain of Pirene. But, pray, 
have you lost a horse ? I see you carry the bridle in 
your hand; and a very pretty one it is with that 
double row of bright stones upon it. If the horse was 
as fine as the bridle, you are much to be pitied for los¬ 
ing him.” 

“I have lost no horse,” said Bellerophon, with a 
smile. “ But I happen to be seeking a very famous 
one, which, as wise people have informed me, must be 
found hereabouts, if anywhere. Do you know whether 
the winged horse Pegasus still haunts the Fountain of 
Pirene, as he used to do in your forefathers’ days ? ” 

But then the country fellow laughed. 

Some of you, my little friends, have probably heard 
that this Pegasus was a snow-white steed, with beauti¬ 
ful silvery wings, who spent most of his time on the 
summit of Mount Helicon. He was as wild, and as 
swift, and as buoyant, in his flight through the air, as 
any eagle that ever soared into the clouds. There was 
nothing else like him in the world. He had no mate ; 
he never had been backed or bridled by a master ; and, 
for many a long year, he led a solitary and a happy 
life. 


170 


THE CHIMZERA 


Oh, how fine a thing it is to be a winged horse 1 
Sleeping at night, as he did, on a lofty mountain-top, 
and passing the greater part of the day in the air, 
Pegasus seemed hardly to be a creature of the earth. 
Whenever he was seen, up very high above people’s 
heads, with the sunshine on his silvery wings, you 
would have thought that he belonged to the sky, and 
that, skimming a little too low, he had got astray 
among our mists and vapors, and was seeking his way 
back again. It was very pretty to behold him plunge 
into the fleecy bosom of a bright cloud, and be lost in 
it, for a moment or two, and then break forth from 
the other side. Or, in a sullen rain-storm, when there 
was a gray pavement of clouds over the whole sky, it 
would sometimes happen that the winged horse de¬ 
scended right through it, and the glad light of the 
upper region would gleam after him. In another in¬ 
stant, it is true, both Pegasus and the pleasant light 
would be gone away together. But any one that was 
fortunate enough to see this wondrous spectacle felt 
cheerful the whole day afterwards, and as much longer 
as the storm lasted. 

In the summer-time, and in the beautifullest of 
weather, Pegasus often alighted on the solid earth, 
and, closing his silvery wings, would gallop over hill 
and dale for pastime, as fleetly as the wind. Oftener 
than in any other place, he had been seen near the 
Fountain of Pirene, drinking the delicious water, or 
rolling himself upon the soft grass of the margin. 
Sometimes, too (but Pegasus was very dainty in his 
food), he would crop a few of the clover-blossoms that 
happened to be sweetest. 

To the Fountain of Pirene, therefore, people’s great¬ 
grandfathers had been in the habit of going (as long 


THE CHIJVLERA 


171 


as they were youthful, and retained their faith in 
winged horses), in hopes of getting a glimpse at the 
beautiful Pegasus. But, of late years, he had been 
very seldom seen. Indeed, there were many of the 
country folks, dwelling within half an hour’s walk of 
the fountain, who had never beheld Pegasus, and did 
not believe that there was any such creature in ex¬ 
istence. The country fellow to whom Bellsrophon was 
speaking chanced to be one of those incredulous per 
sons. 

And that was the reason why he laughed. 

“ Pegasus, indeed! ” cried he, turning up his nose 
as high as such a flat nose could be turned up, — 
“ Pegasus, indeed ! A winged horse, truly ! Why., 
friend, are you in your senses ? Of what use would 

wings be to a horse ? Could he drag the plough so 

well, think you ? To be sure, there might be a little 
saving in the expense of shoes; but then, how would 

a man like to see his horse flying out of the stable 

window ? — yes, or whisking him up above the clouds, 
when he only wanted to ride to mill ? No, no! I 
don’t believe in Pegasus. There never was such a ri¬ 
diculous kind of a horse-fowl made ! ” 

“ I have some reason to think otherwise,” said Bel- 
lerophon, quietly. 

And then he turned to an old, gray man, who was 
leaning on a staff, and listening very attentively, with 
his head stretched forward, and one hand at his ear, 
because, for the last twenty years, he had been getting 
rather deaf. 

“ And what say you, venerable sir ? ” inquired he. 
“ In your younger days, I should imagine, you must 
frequently have seen the winged steed! ” 

“ Ah, young stranger, my memory is very poor! ” 


172 


THE CHIMZERA 


said the aged man. “ When I was a lad, if I remem« 
( ber rightly, I used to believe there was such a horse, 
and so did everybody else. But, nowadays, I hardly 
know what to think, and very seldom think about the 
winged horse at all. If I ever saw the creature, it was 
a long, long while ago; and, to tell you the truth, I 
doubt whether I ever did see him. One day, to be 
sure, when I was quite a youth, I remember seeing 
some hoof-tramps round about the brink of the foun¬ 
tain. Pegasus might have made those hoof-marks; 
and so might some other horse.*’ 

“ And have you never seen him, my fair maiden ? ” 
asked Bellerophon of the girl, who stood with the 
pitcher on her head, while this talk went on. “ You 
certainly could see Pegasus, if anybody can, for your 
eyes are very bright.” 

“ Once I thought I saw him,” replied the maiden, 
with a smile and a blush. “ It was either Pegasus, 
or a large white bird, a very great way up in the air. 
And one other time, as I was coming to the fountain 
with my pitcher, I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk 
and melodious neigh as that was! My very heart 
leaped with delight at the sound. But it startled me, 
nevertheless; so that I ran home without filling my 
pitcher.” 

“ That was truly a pity ! ” said Bellerophon. 

And he turned to the child, whom I mentioned at 
the beginning of the story, and who was gazing at 
him, as children are apt to gaze at strangers, with his 
rosy mouth wide open. 

“ Well, my little fellow,” cried Bellerophon, play¬ 
fully pulling one of his curls, “ I suppose you have 
often seen the winged horse.” 

“That I have,” answered the child, very readily. 
“ I saw him yesterday, and many times before.” 


THE CHIMERA 


173 


“You are a fine little man!” said Bellerophon, 
drawing the child closer to him. “ Come, tell me all 
about it.” 

“ Why,” replied the child, “ I often come here to 
sail little boats in the fountain, and to gather pretty 
pebbles out of its basin. And sometimes, when I look 
down into the water, I see the image of the winged 
horse, in the picture of the sky that is there. I wish 
he would come down, and take me on his back, and 
let me ride him up to the moon! But, if I so much 
as stir to look at him, he flies far away out of sight.” 

And Bellerophon put his faith in the child, who 
had seen the image of Pegasus in the water, and in 
the maiden, who had heard him neigh so melodiously, 
rather than in the middle-aged clown, who believed 
only in cart-horses, or in the old man who had for¬ 
gotten the beautiful things of his youth. 

Therefore, he haunted about the Fountain of Pirene 
for a great many days afterwards. He kept contin¬ 
ually on the watch, looking upward at the sky, or else 
down into the water, hoping forever that he should see 
either the reflected image of the winged horse, or the 
marvellous reality. He held the bridle, with its bright 
gems and golden bit, always ready in his hand. The 
rustic people, who dwelt in the neighborhood, and 
drove their cattle to the fountain to drink, would often 
laugh at poor Bellerophon, and sometimes take him 
pretty severely to task. They told him that an able- 
bodied young man, like himself, ought to have better 
business than to be wasting his time in such an idle 
pursuit. They offered to sell him a horse, if he 
wanted one; and when Bellerophon declined the pur 
chase, they tried to drive a bargain with him for his 
fine bridle. 


174 


THE CHIM/ERA 


Even the country boys thought him so very foolish, 
that they used to have a great deal of sport about him, 
and were rude enough not to care a fig, although Bel- 
lerophon saw and heard it. One little urchin, for ex¬ 
ample, would play Pegasus, and cut the oddest imag 
inable capers, by way of flying; while one of his 
schoolfellows would scamper after him, holding forth 
a twist of bulrushes, which was intended to represent 
Bellerophon’s ornamental bridle. But the gentle 
child, who had seen the picture of Pegasus in the 
water, comforted the young stranger more than all the 
naughty boys could torment him. The dear little fel¬ 
low, in his play-hours, often sat down beside him, and, 
without speaking a word, would look down into the 
fountain and up towards the sky, with so innocent a 
faith, that Bellerophon could not help feeling encour¬ 
aged. 

Now you will, perhaps, wish to be told why it was 
that Bellerophon had undertaken to catch the winged 
horse. And we shall find no better opportunity to 
speak about this matter than while he is waiting for 
Pegasus to appear. 

If I were to relate the whole of Bellerophon’s pre¬ 
vious adventures, they might easily grow into a very 
long story. It will be quite enough to say, that, in a 
certain country of Asia, a terrible monster, called a 
Chimaera, had made its appearance, and was doing 
more mischief than could be talked about between 
now and sunset. According to the best accounts 
which I have been able to obtain, this Chimaera was 
nearly, if not quite, the ugliest and most poisonous 
creature, and the strangest and unaccountablest, and 
the hardest to fight with, and the most difficult to run 
away from, that ever came out of the earth’s inside. 


THE CHIMERA 


175 


It had a tail like a boa-constrictor; its body was like 
I do not care what; and it had three separate heads, 
one of which was a lion’s, the second a goat’s, and the 
third an abominably great snake’s. And a hot blast 
of fire came flaming out of each of its three mouths! 
Being an earthly monster, I doubt whether it had any 
wings; but, wings or no, it ran like a goat and a lion, 
and wriggled along like a serpent, and thus contrived 
to make about as much speed as all the three together. 

Oh, the mischief, and mischief, and mischief that 
this naughty creature did! With its flaming breath, 
it could set a forest on fire, or burn up a field of grain, 
or, for that matter, a village, with all its fences and 
houses. It laid waste the whole country round about, 
and used to eat up people and animals alive, and cook 
them afterwards in the burning oven of its stomach. 
Mercy on us, little children, I hope neither you nor I 
will ever happen to meet a Chimsera! 

While the hateful beast (if a beast we can anywise 
call it) was doing all these horrible things, it so 
chanced that Bellerophon came to that part of the 
world, on a visit to the king. The king’s name was 
Iobates, and Lycia was the country which he ruled 
over. Bellerophon was one of the bravest youths in 
the world, and desired nothing so much as to do some 
valiant and beneficent deed, such as would make all 
mankind admire and love him. In those days, the 
only way for a young man to distinguish himself was 
by fighting battles, either with the enemies of his 
country, or with wicked giants, or with troublesome 
dragons, or with wild beasts, when he could find 
nothing more dangerous to encounter. King Iobates, 
perceiving the courage of his youthful visitor, pro¬ 
posed to hi m to go and fight the Chimsera, which 


176 


THE CHEVLERA 


everybody else was afraid of, and which, unless it 
should be soon killed, was likely to convert Lycia into 
a desert. Bellerophon hesitated not a moment, but 
assured the king that he would either slay this dreaded 
Chimaera, or perish in the attempt. 

But, in the first place, as the monster was so pro¬ 
digiously swift, he bethought himself that he should 
never win the victory by fighting on foot. The wisest 
thing he could do, therefore, was to get the very best 
and fleetest horse that could anywhere be found. And 
what other horse, in all the world, was half so fleet as 
the marvellous horse Pegasus, who had wings as well 
as legs, and was even more active in the air than on 
the earth ? To be sure, a great many people denied 
that there was any such horse with wings, and said 
that the stories about him were all poetry and non¬ 
sense. But, wonderful as it appeared, Bellerophon 
believed that Pegasus was a real steed, and hoped that 
he himself might be fortunate enough to find him; 
and, once fairly mounted on his back, he would be 
able to fight the Chimaera at better advantage. 

And this was the purpose with which he had trav¬ 
elled from Lycia to Greece, and had brought the beau¬ 
tifully ornamented bridle in his hand. It was an en¬ 
chanted bridle. If he could only succeed in putting 
the golden bit into the mouth of Pegasus, the winged 
horse would be submissive, and would own Bellero¬ 
phon for his master, and fly whithersoever he might 
choose to turn the rein. 

But, indeed, it was a weary and anxious time, while 
Bellerophon waited and waited for Pegasus, in hopes 
that he would come and drink at the Fountain of 
Pirene. He was afraid lest King Iobates should im¬ 
agine that he had fled from the Chimaera. It pained 


THE CHIMiERA 


177 


him, too, to think how much mischief the monster was 
doing, while he himself, instead of fighting with it, 
was compelled to sit idly poring over the bright waters 
of Pirene, as they gushed out of the sparkling sand. 
And as Pegasus came thither so seldom in these latter 
years, and scarcely alighted there more than once in a 
lifetime, Bellerophon feared that he might grow an 
old man, and have no strength left in his arms nor 
courage in his heart, before the winged horse would 
appear. Oh, how heavily passes the time, while an ad¬ 
venturous youth is yearning to do his part in life, and 
to gather in the harvest of his renown! How hard a 
lesson it is to wait! Our life is brief, and how much 
of it is spent in teaching us only this! 

Well was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child 
had grown so fond of him, and was never weary of 
keeping him company. Every morning the child gave 
him a new hope to put in his bosom, instead of yester¬ 
day’s withered one. 

“ Dear Bellerophon,” he would cry, looking up hope¬ 
fully into his face, “ I think we shall see Pegasus to- 
day!” 

And, at length, if it had not been for the little boy’s 
unwavering faith, Bellerophon would have given up 
all hope, and would have gone back to Lycia, and 
have done his best to slay the Chimsera without the 
help of the winged horse. And in that case poor Bel¬ 
lerophon would at least have been terribly scorched 
by the creature’s breath, and would most probably 
have been killed and devoured. Nobody should ever 
try to fight an earth-born Chimsera, unless he can first 
get upon the back of an aerial steed. 

One morning the child spoke to Bellerophon even 
more hopefully than usual. 

VOL. IV. 12 


178 


THE CHIJVLERA 


“ Dear, dear Bellerophon,” cried he, “ I know not 
why it is, but I feel as if we should certainly see Pegar 
sus to-day! ” 

And all that day he would not stir a step from Bel- 
lerophon’s side; so they ate a crust of bread together, 
and drank some of the water of the fountain. In the 
afternoon, there they sat, and Bellerophon had thrown 
his arm around the child, who likewise had put one of 
his little hands into Bellerophon’s. The latter was 
lost in his own thoughts, and was fixing his eyes va¬ 
cantly on the trunks of the trees that overshadowed 
the fountain, and on the grapevines that clambered 
up among their branches. But the gentle child was 
gazing down into the water; he was grieved, for Bel¬ 
lerophon’s sake, that the hope of another day should 
be deceived, like so many before it; and two or three 
quiet tear-drops fell from his eyes, and mingled with 
what were said to be the many tears of Pirene, when 
she wept for her slain children. 

But, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt 
the pressure of the child’s little hand, and heard a soft, 
almost breathless, whisper. 

“ See there, dear Bellerophon ! There is an image 
in the water ! ” 

The young man looked down into the dimpling mir¬ 
ror of the fountain, and saw what he took to be the 
reflection of a bird which seemed to be flying at a 
great height in the air, with a gleam of sunshine on its 
snowy or silvery wings. 

“ What a splendid bird it must be! ” said he. “ And 
how very large it looks, though it must really be fly¬ 
ing higher than the clouds ! ” 

“ It makes me tremble ! ” whispered the child. “ I 
am afraid to look up into the air! It is very beautiful, 


THE CHIMERA 179 

and yet I dare only look at its image in the water. 
Dear Bellerophon, do you not see that it is no bird ? 
It is the winged horse Pegasus! ” 

Bellerophon’s heart began to throb ! He gazed 
keenly upward, but could not see the winged crea¬ 
ture, whether bird or horse ; because, just then, it had 
plunged into the fleecy depths of a summer cloud. It 
was but a moment, however, before the object reap¬ 
peared, sinking lightly down out of the cloud, al¬ 
though still at a vast distance from the earth. Beller¬ 
ophon caught the child in his arms, and shrank back 
with him, so that they were both hidden among the 
thick shubbery which grew all around the fountain. 
Not that he was afraid of any harm, but he dreaded 
lest, if Pegasus caught a glimpse of them, he would 
fly far away, and alight in some inaccessible moun¬ 
tain-top. For it was really the winged horse. After 
they had expected him so long, he was coming to quench 
his thirst with the water of Pirene. 

Nearer and nearer came the aerial wonder, flying in 
great circles, as you may have seen a dove when about 
to alight. Downward came Pegasus, in those wide, 
sweeping circles, which grew narrower, and narrower 
still, as he gradually approached the earth. The 
nigher the view of him, the more beautiful he was, 
and the more marvellous the sweep of his silvery 
wings. At last, with so light a pressure as hardly to 
bend the grass about the fountain, or imprint a hoof- 
tramp in the sand of its margin, he alighted, and, 
stooping his wild head, began to drink. He drew in 
the water, with long and pleasant sighs, and tranquil 
pauses of enjoyment; and then another draught, and 
another, and another. For, nowhere in the world, or 
up among the clouds, did Pegasus love any water as 


180 


THE CHIIVLERA 

he loved this of Pirene. And when his thirst was 
slaked, he cropped a few of the honey-blossoms ot the 
clover, delicately tasting them, but not caring to make 
a hearty meal, because the herbage, just beneath the 
clouds, on the lofty sides of Mount Helicon, suited his 
palate better than this ordinary grass. 

After thus drinking to his heart’s content, and in 
his dainty fashion, condescending to take a little food, 
the winged horse began to caper to and fro, and dance 
as it were, out of mere idleness and sport. There 
never was a more playful creature made than this very 
Pegasus. So there he frisked, in a way that it de¬ 
lights me to think about, fluttering his great wings as 
lightly as ever did a linnet, and running little races, 
half on earth and half in air, and which I know not 
whether to call a flight or a gallop. When a creature 
is perfectly able to fly, he sometimes chooses to run, 
just for the pastime of the thing; and so did Pegasus, 
although it cost him some little trouble to keep his 
hoofs so near the ground. Bellerophon, meanwhile, 
holding the child’s hand, peeped forth from the shrub¬ 
bery, and thought that never was any sight so beauti¬ 
ful as this, nor ever a horse’s eyes so wild and spirited 
as those of Pegasus. It seemed a sin to think of brid¬ 
ling him and riding on his back. 

Once or twice, Pegasus stopped, and snuffed the 
air, pricking up his ears, tossing his head, and turning 
it on all sides, as if he partly suspected some mischief 
or other. Seeing nothing, however, and hearing no 
sound, he soon began his antics again. 

At length, — not that he was weary, but only idle 
and luxurious, — Pegasus folded his wings, and lay 
down on the soft green turf. But, being too full of 
aerial life to remain quiet for many moments together, 


THE CHI1VLERA 181 

he soon rolled over on his back, with his four slender 
legs in the air. It was beautiful to see him, this one 
solitary creature, whose mate had never been created, 
but who needed no companion, and, living a great 
many hundred years, was as happy as the centuries 
were long. The more he did such things as mortal 
horses are accustomed to do, the less earthly and the 
more wonderful he seemed. Bellerophon and the 
child almost held their breath, partly from a delight¬ 
ful awe, but still more because they dreaded lest the 
slightest stir or murmur should send him up, with the 
speed of an arrow-flight, into the farthest blue of the 
sky. 

Finally, when he had had enough of rolling over 
and over, Pegasus turned himself about, and, indo¬ 
lently, like any other horse, put out his fore legs, in 
order to rise from the ground ; and Bellerophon, who 
had guessed that he would do so, darted suddenly 
from the thicket, and leaped astride of his back. 

Yes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse! 

But what a bound did Pegasus make, when, for the 
first time, he felt the weight of a mortal man upon 
his loins! A bound, indeed ! Before he had time to 
draw a breath, Bellerophon found himself five hundred 
feet aloft, and still shooting upward, while the winged 
horse snorted and trembled with terror and anger. 
Upward he went, up, up, up, until he plunged into 
the cold misty bosom of a cloud, at which, only a little 
while before, Bellerophon had been gazing, and fancy¬ 
ing it a very pleasant spot. Then again, out of the 
heart of the cloud, Pegasus shot down like a thunder¬ 
bolt, as if he meant to dash both himself and his 
rider headlong against a rock. Then he went through 
about a thousand of the wildest caprioles that had 
ever been performed either by a bird or a horse. 


182 


THE CHIMERA 


I cannot tell you half that he did. He skimmed 
straight forward, and sideways, and backward. He 
reared himself erect, with his fore legs on a wreath of 
mist, and his hind legs on nothing at all. He flung 
out his heels behind, and put down his head between 
his legs, with his wings pointing right upward. At 
about two miles’ height above the earth, he turned a 
somerset, so that Bellerophon’s heels were where his 
head should have been, and he seemed to look down 
into the sky, instead of up. He twisted his head 
about, and, looking Bellerophon in the face, with fire 
flashing from his eyes, made a terrible attempt to 
bite him. He fluttered his pinions so wildly that one 
of the silver feathers was shaken out, and floating 
earthward, was picked up by the child, who kept it as 
long as he lived, in memory of Pegasus and Bellero¬ 
phon. 

But the latter (who, as you may judge, was as good 
a horseman as ever galloped) had been watching his 
opportunity, and at last clapped the golden bit of the 
enchanted bridle between the winged steed’s jaws. 
No sooner was this done, than Pegasus became as 
manageable as if he had taken food, all his life, out of 
Bellerophon’s hand. To speak what I really feel, it 
was almost a sadness to see so wild a creature grow 
suddenly so tame. And Pegasus seemed to feel it so, 
likewise. He looked round to Bellerophon, with the 
tears in his beautiful eyes, instead of the fire that so 
recently flashed from them. But when Bellerophon 
patted his head, and spoke a few authoritative, yet 
kind and soothing words, another look came into the 
eyes of Pegasus; for he was glad at heart, after so 
many lonely centuries, to have found a companion 
and a master. 


THE CHIM/ERA 


183 


Thus it always is with winged horses, and with all 
such wild and solitary creatures. If you can catch and 
overcome them, it is the surest way to win their love. 

While Pegasus had been doing his utmost to shake 
Bellerophon off his hack, he had flown a very long 
distance; and they had come within sight of a lofty 
mountain by the time the bit was in his mouth. 
Bellerophon had seen this mountain before, and knew 
it to be Helicon, on the summit of , which was the 
winged horse’s abode. Thither (after looking gently 
into his rider’s face, as if to ask leave) Pegasus now 
flew, and, alighting, waited patiently until Bellero¬ 
phon should please to dismount. The young man, ac¬ 
cordingly, leaped from his steed’s back, but still held 
him fast by the bridle. Meeting his eyes, however, 
he was so affected by the gentleness of his aspect, and 
by the thought of the free life which Pegasus had 
heretofore lived, that he could not bear to keep him a 
a prisoner, if he really desired his liberty. 

Obeying this generous impulse he slipped the en¬ 
chanted bridle off the head of Pegasus, and took the 
bit from his mouth. 

“ Leave me, Pegasus ! ” said he. “ Either leave me, 
or love me.” 

In an instant, the winged horse shot almost out of 
sight, soaring straight upward from the summit of 
Mount Helicon. Being long after sunset, it was now 
twilight on the mountain-top, and dusky evening over 
all the country round about. But Pegasus flew so high 
that he overtook the departed day, and was bathed in 
the upper radiance of the sun. Ascending higher and 
higher, he looked like a bright speck, and, at last, 
could no longer be seen in the hollow waste of the 
sky. And Bellerophon was afraid that he should 


184 


THE CHIIVLERA 


never behold him more. But, while he was lamenting 
his own folly, the bright speck reappeared, and drew 
nearer and nearer, until it descended lower than the 
sunshine; and, behold, Pegasus had come back! 
After this trial there was no more fear of the winged 
horse’s making his escape. He and Bellerophon were 
friends, and put loving faith in one another. 

That night they lay down and slept together, with 
Bellerophon’s arm about the neck of Pegasus, not as 
a caution, but for kindness. And they awoke at peep 
of day, and bade one another good morning, each in 
his own language. 

In this manner, Bellerophon and the wondrous 
steed spent several days, and grew better acquainted 
and fonder of each other all the time. They went on 
long aerial journeys, and sometimes ascended so high 
that the earth looked hardly bigger than — the moon. 
They visited distant countries, and amazed the in¬ 
habitants, who thought that the beautiful young man, 
on the back of the winged horse, must have come 
down out of the sky. A thousand miles a day was no 
more than an easy space for the fleet Pegasus to pass 
over. Bellerophon was delighted with this kind of 
life, and would have liked nothing better than to live 
always in the same way, aloft in the clear atmosphere; 
for it was always sunny weather up there, however 
cheerless and rainy it might be in the lower region. 
But he could not forget the horrible Chimaera, which 
he had promised King Iobates to slay. So, at last, 
when he had become well accustomed to feats of horse¬ 
manship in the air, and could manage Pegasus with 
the least motion of his hand, and had taught him to 
obey his voice, he determined to attempt the per* 
formance of this perilous adventure. 


THE CHIMERA 185 

At daybreak, therefore, as soon as he unclosed his 
eyes, he gently pinched the winged horse’s ear, in order 
to arouse him. Pegasus immediately started from the 
ground, and pranced about a quarter of a mile aloft, 
and made a grand sweep around the mountain-top, by 
way of showing that he was wide awake, and ready for 
any kind of an excursion. During the whole of this 
little flight, he uttered a loud, brisk, and melodious 
neigh, and finally came down at Bellerophon’s side, as 
lightly as ever you saw a sparrow hop upon a twig. 

“ Well done, dear Pegasus! well done, my sky-skim¬ 
mer ! ” cried Bellerophon, fondly stroking the horse’s 
neck. “ And now, my fleet and beautiful friend, we 
must break our fast. To-day we are to fight the terri¬ 
ble Chimaera.” 

As soon as they had eaten their morning meal, and 
drank some sparkling water from a spring called Hip- 
pocrene, Pegasus held out his head, of his own accord, 
so that his master might put on the bridle. Then, 
with a great many playful leaps and airy caperings, 
he showed his impatience to be gone; while Bellero¬ 
phon was girding on his sword, and hanging his shield 
about his neck, and preparing himself for battle. 
When everything was ready, the rider mounted, and 
(as was his custom, when going a long distance) as¬ 
cended five miles perpendicularly, so as the better to 
see whither he was directing his course. He then 
turned the head of Pegasus towards the east, and set 
out for Lycia. In their flight they overtook an eagle, 
and came so nigh him, before he could get out of their 
way, that Bellerophon might easily have caught him 
by the leg. Hastening onward at this rate, it was still 
early in the forenoon when they beheld the lofty moun¬ 
tains of Lycia, with their deep and shaggy valleys. If 


186 THE CHIMERA 

Bellerophon had been told truly, it was in one of those 
dismal valleys that the hideous Chimaera had taken up 
its abode. 

Being now so near their journey’s end, the winged 
horse gradually descended with his rider; and they 
took advantage of some clouds that were floating over 
the mountain-tops, in order to conceal themselves. 
Hovering on the upper surface of a cloud, and peep¬ 
ing over its edge, Bellerophon had a pretty distinct 
view of the mountainous part of Lycia, and could look 
into all its shadowy vales at once. At first there ap¬ 
peared to be nothing remarkable. It was a wild, sav¬ 
age, and rocky tract of high and precipitous hills. In 
the more level part of the country, there were the ruins 
of houses that had been burnt, and, here and there, the 
carcasses of dead cattle, strewn about the pastures 
where they had been feeding. 

“ The Chimaera must have done this mischief,” 
thought Bellerophon. “ But where can the monster 
be?” 

As I have already said, there was nothing remark¬ 
able to be detected, at first sight, in any of the valleys 
and dells that lay among the precipitous heights of the 
mountains. Nothing at all; unless, indeed, it were 
three spires of black smoke, which issued from what 
seemed to be the mouth of a cavern, and clambered 
sullenly into the atmosphere. Before reaching the 
mountain-top, these three black smoke-wreaths mingled 
themselves into one. The cavern was almost directly 
beneath the winged horse and his rider, at the distance 
of about a thousand feet. The smoke, as it crept 
heavily upward, had an ugly, sulphurous, stifling 
scent, which caused Pegasus to snort and Bellerophon 
to sneeze. So disagreeable was it to the marvellous 


THE CHI1VLERA 187 

Bteed (who was accustomed to breathe only the purest 
air), that he waved his wings, and shot half a mile out 
of the range of this offensive vapor. 

But, on looking behind him, Bellerophon saw some, 
thing that induced him first to draw the bridle, and 
then to turn Pegasus about. He made a sign, which 
the winged horse understood, and sunk slowly through 
the air, until his hoofs were scarcely more than a 
man’s height above the rocky bottom of the valley. 
In front, as far off as you could throw a stone, was 
the cavern’s mouth, with the three smoke-wreaths ooz¬ 
ing out of it. And what else did Bellerophon behold 
there ? 

There seemed to be a heap of strange and terrible 
creatures curled up within the cavern. Their bodies 
lay so close together, that Bellerophon could not dis¬ 
tinguish them apart; but, judging by their heads, one 
of these creatures was a huge snake, the second a 
fierce lion, and the third an ugly goat. The lion and 
the goat were asleep; the snake was broad awake, and 
kept staring around him with a great pair of fiery 
eyes. But—and this was the most wonderful part 
of the matter — the three spires of smoke evidently 
issued from the nostrils of these three heads! So 
strange was the spectacle, that, though Bellerophon 
had been all along expecting it, the truth did not im¬ 
mediately occur to him, that here was the terrible 
three-headed Chimsera. He had found out the Chi- 
maera’s cavern. The snake, the lion, and the goat, as 
he supposed them to be, were not three separate crea¬ 
tures, but one monster! 

The wicked, hateful thing ! Slumbering as two 
thirds of it were, it still held, in its abominable claws, 
the remnant of an unfortunate lamb, — or possibly 


188 


THE CHIJVLERA 


(but I hate to think so) it was a dear little boy, — 
which its three mouths had been gnawing, before two 
of them fell asleep ! 

All at once, Bellerophon started as from a dream, 
and knew it to be the Chimsera. Pegasus seemed to 
know it, at the same instant, and sent forth a neigh, 
that sounded like the call of a trumpet to battle. At 
this sound the three heads reared themselves erect, and 
belched out great flashes of flame. Before Bellerophon 
had time to consider what to do next, the monster 
flung itself out of the cavern and sprung straight to¬ 
wards him, with its immense claws extended, and its 
snaky tail twisting itself venomously behind. If Peg¬ 
asus had not been as nimble as a bird, both he and his 
rider would have been overthrown by the Chimsera’s 
headlong rush, and thus the battle have been ended 
before it was well begun. But the winged horse was 
not to be caught so. In the twinkling of an eye he 
was up aloft, half-way to the clouds, snorting with 
anger. He shuddered, too, not with affright, but with 
utter disgust at the loathsomeness of this poisonous 
thing with three heads. 

The Chimsera, on the other hand, raised itself up so 
as to stand absolutely on the tip-end of its tail, with 
its talons pawing fiercely in the air, and its three heads 
spluttering fire at Pegasus and his rider. My stars, 
how it roared, and hissed, and bellowed! Bellerophon, 
meanwhile, was fitting his shield on his arm, and draw¬ 
ing his sword. 

“ Now, my beloved Pegasus,” he whispered in the 
winged horse’s ear, “ thou must help me to slay this 
insufferable monster; or else thou shalt fly back to 
thy solitary mountain-peak without thy friend Bel 
lerophon. For either the Chimsera dies, or its three 


THE CHIMERA 189 

mouths shall gnaw this head of mine, which has slum¬ 
bered upon thy neck! ” 

Pegasus whinnied, and, turning back his head, 
rubbed his nose tenderly against his rider’s cheek. It 
was his way of telling him that, though he had wings 
and was an immortal horse, yet he would perish, if it 
were possible for immortality to perish, rather than 
leave Bellerophon behind. 

u I thank you, Pegasus,” answered Bellerophon. 
“ Now, then, let us make a dash at the monster ! ” 
Uttering these words, he shook the bridle ; and Peg¬ 
asus darted down aslant, as swift as the flight of an 
arrow, right towards the Chimaera’s threefold head, 
which, all this time, was poking itself as high as it 
could into the air. As he came within arm’s-length, 
Bellerophon made a cut at the monster, but was car¬ 
ried onward by his steed, before he could see whether 
the blow had been successful. Pegasus continued his 
course, but soon wheeled round, at about the same dis¬ 
tance from the Chimaera as before. Bellerophon then 
perceived that he had cut the goat’s head of the 
monster almost off, so that it dangled downward by 
the skin, and seemed quite dead. 

But, to make amends, the snake’s head and the 
lion’s head had taken all the fierceness of the dead 
one into themselves, and spit flame, and hissed, and 
roared, with a vast deal more fury than before. 

“ Never mind, my brave Pegasus ! ” cried Bellero¬ 
phon. “With another stroke like that, we will stop 
either its hissing or its roaring.” 

And again he shook the bridle. Dashing aslant- 
wise, as before, the winged horse made another arrow- 
flight towards the Chimaera, and Bellerophon aimed 
another downright stroke at one of the two remaining 


190 


THE CHIM/ERA 


heads, as he shot by. But this time, neither he nor 
Pegasus escaped so well as at first. With one of its 
claws, the Chimaera had given the young man a deep 
scratch in his shoulder, and had slightly damaged the 
left wing of the flying steed with the other. On his 
part, Bellerophon had mortally wounded the lion’s 
head of the monster, insomuch that it now hung down¬ 
ward, with its fire almost extinguished, and sending 
out gasps of thick black smoke. The snake’s head, 
however (which was the only one now left), was twice 
as fierce and venomous as ever before. It belched 
forth shoots of fire five hundred yards long, and 
emitted hisses so loud, so harsh, and so ear-piercing, 
that King Iobates heard them, fifty miles off, and 
trembled till the throne shook under him. 

“ Well-a-day ! ” thought the poor king ; “ the Chi¬ 
maera is certainly coming to devour me ! ” 

Meanwhile Pegasus had again paused in the air, 
and neighed angrily, while sparkles of a pure crystal 
flame darted out of his eyes. How unlike the lurid 
fire of the Chimaera ! The aerial steed’s spirit was all 
aroused, and so was that of Bellerophon. 

“ Dost thou bleed, my immortal horse ? ” cried the 
young man, caring less for his own hurt than for the 
anguish of this glorious creature, that ought never to 
have tasted pain. “ The execrable Chimaera shall pay 
for this mischief with his last head! ” 

Then he shook the bridle, shouted loudly, and 
guided Pegasus, not aslantwise as before, but straight 
at the monster’s hideous front. So rapid was the 
onset, that it seemed but a dazzle and a flash before 
Bellerophon was at close gripes with his enemy. 

The Chimaera, by this time, after losing its second 
head, had got into a red-hot passion of pain and ram* 


THE Cl 11 M/ERA 


191 


pant rage. It so flounced about, half on earth and 
partly in the air, that it was impossible to say which 
element it rested upon. It opened its snake-jaws to 
such an abominable width, that Pegasus might almost, 
I was going to say, have flown right down its throat, 
wings outspread, rider and all! At their approach it 
shot out a tremendous blast of its fiery breath, and en¬ 
veloped Bellerophon and his steed in a perfect atmos¬ 
phere of flame, singeing the wings of Pegasus, scorch¬ 
ing off one whole side of the young man’s golden 
ringlets, and making them both far hotter than was 
comfortable, from head to foot. 

But this was nothing to what followed. 

When the airy rush of the winged horse had 
brought him within the distance of a hundred yards, 
the Chimaera gave a spring, and flung its huge, awk¬ 
ward, venomous, and utterly detestable carcass right 
upon poor Pegasus, clung round him with might and 
main, and tied up its snaky tail into a knot! Up 
flew the aerial steed, higher, higher, higher, above the 
mountain-peaks, above the clouds, and almost out of 
sight of the solid earth. But still the earth-born 
monster kept its hold, and was borne upward, along 
with the creature of light and air. Bellerophon, mean¬ 
while, turning about, found himself face to face with 
the ugly grimness of the Chimaera’s visage, and could 
only avoid being scorched to death, or bitten right in 
twain, by holding up his shield. Over the upper edge 
of the shield, he looked sternly into the savage eyes of 
the monster. 

But the Chimaera was so mad and wild with pain, 
that it did not guard itself so well as might else have 
been the case. Perhaps, after all, the best way to fight 
a Chimaera is by getting as close to it as you can. In 


192 


THE CHI1VLERA 


its efforts to stick its horrible iron claws into its enemy, 
the creature left its own breast quite exposed; and per¬ 
ceiving this, Bellerophon thrust his sword up to the 
hilt into its cruel heart. Immediately the snaky tail 
untied its knot. The monster let go its hold of Pega¬ 
sus, and fell from that vast height, downward; while 
the fire within its bosom, instead of being put out, 
burned fiercer than ever, and quickly began to con¬ 
sume the dead carcass. Thus it fell out of the sky, all 
a-flame, and (it being nightfall before it reached the 
earth) was mistaken for a shooting star or a comet. 
But, at early sunrise, some cottagers were going to 
their day’s labor, and saw, to their astonishment, that 
several acres of ground were strewn with black ashes. 
In the middle of a field, there was a heap of whitened 
bones, a great deal higher than a haystack. Nothing 
else was ever seen of the dreadful Chimaera! 

And when Bellerophon had won the victory, he bent 
forward and kissed Pegasus, while the tears stood in 
his eyes. 

“ Back now, my beloved steed I ” said he. “ Back 
to the Fountain of Pirene ! ” 

Pegasus skimmed through the air, quicker than ever 
he did before, and reached the fountain in a very short 
time. And there he found the old man leaning on his 
staff, and the country fellow watering his cow, and the 
pretty maiden filling her pitcher. 

“ I remember now,” quoth the old man, “ I saw this 
winged horse once before, when I was quite a lad. But 
he was ten times handsomer in those days.” 

“ I own a cart-horse, worth three of him ! ” said the 
country fellow. “ If this pony were mine, the first 
thing I should do would be to clip his wings ! ” 

But the poor maiden said nothing, for she had al 


THE CHIMERA 


193 


ways the luck to be afraid at the wrong time. So 
she ran away, and let her pitcher tumble down, and 
broke it. 

“Where is the gentle child,” asked Bellerophon, 
“ who used to keep me company, and never lost his 
faith, and never was weary of gazing into the foun¬ 
tain ? ” 

“ Here am I, dear Bellerophon! ” said the child, 
softly. 

For the little boy had spent day after day, on the 
margin of Pirene, waiting for his friend to come back; 
but when he perceived Bellerophon descending through 
the clouds, mounted on the winged horse, he had 
shrunk back into the shrubbery. He was a delicate 
and tender child, and dreaded lest the old man and 
the country fellow should see the tears gushing from 
his eyes. 

“ Thou hast won the victory,” said he, joyfully, run¬ 
ning to the knee of Bellerophon, who still sat on the 
back of Pegasus. “ I knew thou wouldst.” 

“ Yes, dear child! ” replied Bellerophon, alighting 
from the winged horse. “ But if thy faith had not 
helped me, I should never have waited for Pegasus, 
and never have gone up above the clouds, and never 
have conquered the terrible Chimsera. Thou, my be¬ 
loved little friend, hast done it all. And now ]et us 
give Pegasus his liberty.” 

So he slipped off the enchanted bridle from the head 
of the marvellous steed. 

“Be free, forevermore, my Pegasus ! ” cried he, with 
a shade of sadness in his tone. “ Be as free as thou 
art fleet! ” 

But Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon’s shoul¬ 
der, and would not be persuaded to take flight. 

VOL. iv. 13 


194 


THE CHIM/ERA 


“Well then,” said Bellerophon, caressing the airy 
horse, “ thou shalt be with me, as long as thou wilt; 
and we will go together, forthwith, and tell King Io- 
bates that the Chimsera is destroyed.” 

Then Bellerophon embraced the gentle child, and 
promised to come to him again, and departed. But, in 
after years, that child took higher flights upon the, 
aerial steed than ever did Bellerophon, and achieved 
more honorable deeds than his friend’s victory over 
the Chimaera. For, gentle and tender as he was, he 
grew to be a mighty poet! 



BALD-SUMMIT. 


AFTER THE STORY. 

Eustace Bright told the legend of Bellerophon 
with as much fervor and animation as if he had really 
been taking a gallop on the winged horse. At the con¬ 
clusion, he was gratified to discern, by the glowing 
countenances of his auditors, how greatly they had 
been interested. All their eyes were dancing in their 
heads, except those of Primrose. In her eyes there 
were positively tears; for she was conscious of some¬ 
thing in the legend which the rest of them were not 
yet old enough to feel. Child’s story as it was, the 
student had contrived to breathe through it the ardor, 
the generous hope, and the imaginative enterprise of 
youth. 

“ I forgive you, now, Primrose,” said he, “ for all 
your ridicule of myself and my stories. One tear pays 
for a great deal of laughter.” 

“Well, Mr. Bright,” answered Primrose, wiping 
her eyes, and giving him another of her mischievous 
smiles, “it certainly does elevate your ideas, to get 
your head above the clouds. I advise you never to 
tell another story, unless it be, as at present, from the 
top of a mountain.” 

“ Or from the back of Pegasus,” replied Eustace, 
laughing. “ Don’t you think that I succeeded pretty 
well in catching that wonderful pony ? ” 

“ It was so like one of your madcap pranks! ’ 














196 


BALD-SUMMIT 


cried Primrose, clapping her hands. “ I think I see 
you now on his back, two miles high, and with your 
head downward ! It is well that you have not really 
an opportunity of trying your horsemanship on any 
wilder steed than our sober Davy, or Old Hundred.” 

“ For my part, I wish I had Pegasus here, at this 
moment,” said the student. “ I would mount him 
forthwith, and gallop about the country, within a cir¬ 
cumference of a few miles, making literary calls on 
my brother-authors. Dr. Dewey would be within my 
reach, at the foot of Taconic. In Stockbridge, yonder, 
is Mr. James, conspicuous to all the world on his 
mountain-pile of history and romance. Longfellow, I 
believe, is not yet at the Ox-bow, else the winged 
horse would neigh at the sight of him. But, here in 
Lenox, I should find our most truthful novelist, who 
has made the scenery and life of Berkshire all her 
own. On the hither side of Pittsfield sits Herman 
Melville, shaping out the gigantic conception of his 
‘ White Whale,’ while the gigantic shape of Graylock 
looms upon him from his study-window. Another 
bound of my flying steed would bring me to the door 
of Holmes, whom I mention last, because Pegasus 
would certainly unseat me, the next minute, and claim 
the poet as his rider.” 

“ Have we not an author for our next neighbor ? ” 
asked Primrose. “ That silent man, who lives in the 
old red house, near Tanglewood Avenue, and whom we 
sometimes meet, with two children at his side, in the 
woods or at the lake. I think I have heard of his 
having written a poem, or a romance, or an arithme¬ 
tic, or a school-history, or some other kind of a book.” 

“ Hush, Primrose, hush ! ” exclaimed Eustace, in a 
thrilling whisper, and putting his finger on his lip. 


BALD-SUMMIT 197 

M Not a word about that man, even on a hill-top ! If 
our babble were to reach his ears, and happen not to 
please him, he has but to fling a quire or two of paper 
into the stove, and you, Primrose, and I, and Peri¬ 
winkle, Sweet Fern, Squash-Blossom, Blue Eye, Huck¬ 
leberry, Clover, Cowslip, Plantain, Milkweed, Dande¬ 
lion, and Buttercup, — yes, and wise Mr. Pringle* 
with his unfavorable criticisms on my legends, and 
poor Mrs. Pringle, too, — would all turn to smoke, 
and go whisking up the funnel! Our neighbor in the 
red house is a harmless sort of person enough, for 
aught I know, as concerns the rest of the world ; but 
something whispers to me that he has a terrible power 
over ourselves, extending to nothing short of annihi¬ 
lation.” 

“ And would Tanglewood turn to smoke, as well as 
we ? ” asked Periwinkle, quite appalled at the threat¬ 
ened destruction. “ And what would become of Ben 
and Bruin ? ” 

“ Tanglewood would remain,” replied the student, 
“ looking just as it does now, but occupied by an en¬ 
tirely different family. And Ben and Bruin would be 
still alive, and would make themselves very comforta¬ 
ble with the bones from the dinner-table, without ever 
thinking of the good times which they and we have 
had together! ” 

“ What nonsense you are talking! ” exclaimed 
Primrose. 

With idle chat of this kind, the party had already 
begun to descend the hill, and were now within the 
shadow of the woods. Primrose gathered some moun¬ 
tain-laurel, the leaf of which, though of last year’s 
growth, was still as verdant and elastic as if the frost 
and thaw had not alternately tried their force upon its 


198 


BALD-SUMMIT 


texture. Of these twigs of laurel she twined a wreath, 
and took off the student’s cap, in order to place it on 
his brow. 

“ Nobody else is likely to crown you for your sto¬ 
ries,” observed saucy Primrose, “ so take this from 
me. 

“ Do not be too sure,” answered Eustace, looking 
really like a youthful poet, with the laurel among his 
glossy curls, “ that I shall not win other wreaths by 
these wonderful and admirable stories. I mean to 
spend all my leisure, during the rest of the vacation, 
and throughout the summer term at college, in writing 
them out for the press. Mr. J. T. Fields (with whom 
I became acquainted when he was in Berkshire, last 
summer, and who is a poet, as well as a publisher) 
will see their uncommon merit at a glance. He will 
get them illustrated, I hope, by Billings, and will 
bring them before the world under the very best of 
auspices, through the eminent house of Ticknok & 
Co. In about five months from this moment, I make 
no doubt of being reckoned among the lights of the 
age!” 

“ Poor boy ! ” said Primrose, half aside. “ What a 
disappointment awaits him ! ” 

Descending a little lower, Bruin began to bark, and 
was answered by the graver bow-wow of the respecta¬ 
ble Ben. They soon saw the good old dog, keeping 
careful watch over Dandelion, Sweet Fern, Cowslip, 
and Squash-Blossom. These little people, quite recov¬ 
ered from their fatigue, had set about gathering check- 
erberries, and now came clambering to meet their play¬ 
fellows. Thus reunited, the whole party went down 
through Luther Butler’s orchard, and made the best 
of their way home to Tanglewood. 


TANGLEWOOD TALES, 

FOR GIRLS AND BOYS. 


BEING A SECOND WONDER-BOOK. 


















TANGLEWOOD TALES. 

Hawthorne’s first “Wonder Book” was so well 
received, that he was induced to undertake another 
within eighteen months from the time of finishing the 
first. To this new volume, made up in the same way 
of Greek myths retold with a modern, free, half real¬ 
istic and half fanciful tone, he gave the name “ Tan- 
glewood Tales.” The previous series having been 
ostensibly narrated by one Eustace Bright, among the 
hills of Berkshire, these additional stories in the like 
vein were represented as having been brought by Eus¬ 
tace Bright to Hawthorne, at his new home, The 
Wayside, in Concord. 

This place Hawthorne had bought and moved into, 
early in the summer of 1852, after finishing “The 
Blithedale Romance ” at West Newton, during the 
preceding winter. 1 Some slight references to it are 
made in the Introduction headed “ The Wayside,” 
where “ my predecessor’s little ruined, rustic summer¬ 
house, midway on the hill-side,” is mentioned. The 
predecessor was Mr. A. Bronson Alcott, one of the so- 
called Transcendental school of thinkers, the intimate 
friend of Ralph Waldo Emerson, and the father of 

1 For a detailed account of The Wayside, the prefatory note to 
Septimiv.* Felton, in this edition of the works, may be consulted. 


















202 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 

Miss Louisa M. Alcott, since become one of the most 
popular of writers for children. This summer-house, 
therefore, becomes to the mind a sort of station be¬ 
tween the new generation and tha old, a link between 
Hawthorne in his capacity of tale-teller to the little 
folks of America, and the woman who, at that time a 
child, has in later years assembled from the young 
people a vast audience of her own. The romancer 
speaks of this rustic structure in a letter to George 
William Curtis, dated July 14, 1852 : — 

“ Mr. Alcott expended a good deal of taste and 
some money (to no great purpose) in forming the hill¬ 
side behind the house into terraces, and building ar¬ 
bors and summer-houses of rough stems and branches 
and trees, on a system of his own. They must have 
been very pretty in their day, and are so still, although 
much decayed, and shattered more and more by every 
breeze that blows.” 

No vestige of this sylvan edifice now remains. 

Prior to his return to Concord and installation at 
The Wayside, Hawthorne had contemplated giving up 
that humble abode at Lenox, which, in a letter to 
George William Curtis, he had called “the ugliest 
little old red farm-house you ever saw,” and renting 
the country-seat of Mrs. Fanny Kemble, in the same 
vicinity. But as I have mentioned in the Introductory 
Note prefixed to the “ Wonder-Book,” he had already 
begun to languish somewhat in the inland air of the 
Berkshire Valley; added to which was the not alto¬ 
gether favorable influence of the striking scenery in 
that picturesque mountain-district. In October, 1851, 
he wrote from Lenox to a friend: “We shall leave 
here (with much joy) on the first day of December.” 

The sojourn at West Newton, however, served only 


INTRODUCTORY NOTE 203 

to occupy the interval between Lenox and his settle¬ 
ment at Concord. After he had arrived at the latter 
place, he wrote to Horatio Bridge (October 13,1852): 
“ In a day or two I intend to begin a new romance, 
which, if possible, I intend to make more genial than 
the last.” The “last” was “The Blithedale Bo- 
mance; ” but of the newly projected work here men¬ 
tioned we find no further trace, and it is impossible to 
conjecture what scheme for a fresh work of fiction was 
then occupying the author’s mind. The “ campaign ” 
Life of Franklin Pierce had already been produced 
after his coming to The Wayside, and he was appar¬ 
ently free to turn his attention to this projected ro¬ 
mance ; but instead of pursuing the design, whatever 
it may have been, he took up the composition of the 
“Tanglewood Tales,” which were completed in the 
early spring of 1853. On the 13th of March, that 
year, he wrote the preface for them. Ten days later 
his appointment to the consulate at Liverpool by 
President Pierce was confirmed by the Senate of the 
United States. 


G P. L. 




















































































































































































































































































THE WAYSIDE. 


INTRODUCTORY. 

A SHORT time ago, I was favored with a flying 1 visit 
from my young friend Eustace Bright, whom I had 
not before met with since quitting the breezy moun¬ 
tains of Berkshire. It being the winter vacation at 
his college, Eustace was allowing himself a little re¬ 
laxation, in the hope, he told me, of repairing the in¬ 
roads which severe application to study had made 
upon his health; and I was happy to conclude, from 
the excellent physical condition in which I saw him, 
that the remedy had already been attended with very 
desirable success. He had now run up from Boston 
by the noon train, partly impelled by the friendly re¬ 
gard with which he is pleased to honor me, and 
partly, as I soon found, on a matter of literary busi¬ 
ness. 

It delighted me to receive Mr. Bright, for the first 
time, under a roof, though a very humble one, which 
I could really call my own. Nor did I fail (as is the 
custom of landed proprietors all about the world) to 
parade the poor fellow up and down over my half a 
dozen acres ; secretly rejoicing, nevertheless, that the 
disarray of the inclement season, and particularly the 
six inches of snow then upon the ground, prevented 
him from observing the ragged neglect of soil and 
shrubbery into which the place has lapsed. It was 
idle, however, to imagine that an aiw guest from 













206 THE WAYSIDE 

Monument Mountain, Bald-Summit, and old Gray- 
lock, shaggy with primeval forests, could see anything 
to admire in my poor little hill-side, with its growth 
of frail and insect-eaten locust-trees. Eustace very 
frankly called the view from my hill-top tame; and 
so, no doubt, it was, after rough, broken, rugged, head 
long Berkshire,, and especially the northern parts of 
the county, with which his college residence had made 
him familiar. But to me there is a peculiar, quiet 
charm in these broad meadows and gentle eminences. 
They are better than mountains, because they do not 
stamp and stereotype themselves into the brain, and 
thus grow wearisome with the same strong impres¬ 
sion, repeated day after day. A few summer weeks 
among mountains, a lifetime among green meadows 
and placid slopes, with outlines forever new, because 
continually fading out of the memory, — such would 
be my sober choice. 

I doubt whether Eustace did not internally pro* 
nounce the whole thing a bore, until I led him to my 
predecessor’s little ruined, rustic summer-house, mid¬ 
way on the hill-side. It is a mere skeleton of slender, 
decaying tree-trunks, with neither walls nor a roof; 
nothing but a tracery of branches and twigs, which 
the next wintry blast will be very likely to scatter in 
fragments along the terrace. It looks, and is, as evan¬ 
escent as a dream ; and yet, in its rustic net-work of 
boughs, it has somehow enclosed a hint of spiritual 
beauty, and has become a true emblem of the subtile 
and ethereal mind that planned it. I made Eustace 
Bright sit down on a snow-hank, which had heaped it¬ 
self over the mossy seat, and gazing through the arched 
window opposite, he acknowledged that the scene at 
once grew picturesque. 


THE WAYSIDE 


207 


“ Simple as it looks,” said he, “ this little edifice 
seems to be the work of magic. It is full of sugges¬ 
tiveness, and, in its way, is as good as a cathedral. 
Ah, it would be just the spot for one to sit in, of a 
summer afternoon, and tell the children some more 
of those wild stories from the classic myths! ” 

“ It would, indeed,” answered I. “ The summer¬ 
house itself, so airy and so broken, is like one of those 
old tales, imperfectly remembered ; and these living 
branches of the Baldwin apple-tree, thrusting them¬ 
selves so rudely in, are like your unwarrantable inter¬ 
polations. But, by the by, have you added any more 
legends to the series, since the publication of the 
Wonder Book? ” 

“ Many more,” said Eustace; “ Primrose, Peri¬ 
winkle, and the rest of them allow me no comfort of 
my life, unless I tell them a story every day or two. I 
have run away from home partly to escape the impor¬ 
tunity of those little wretches! But I have written 
out six of the new stories, and have brought them for 
you to look over.” 

“ Are they as good as the first ? ” I inquired. 

“ Better chosen, and better handled,” replied Eus¬ 
tace Bright. “ You will say so when you read them.” 

“ Possibly not,” I remarked. “ I know, from my 
own experience, that an author’s last work is always 
his best one, in his own estimate, until it quite loses 
the red heat of composition. After that, it falls into 
its true place, quietly enough. But let us adjourn to 
my study, and examine these new stories. It would 
hardly be doing yourself justice, were you to bring 
me acquainted with them, sitting here on this snow¬ 
bank ! ” 

So we descended the hill to my small, old cottage, 


208 


THE WAYSIDE 


and shut ourselves up in the southeastern room, where 
the sunshine comes in, warmly and brightly, through 
the better half of a winter’s day. Eustace put his 
bundle of manuscript into my hands ; and I skimmed 
through it pretty rapidly, trying to find out its merits 
and demerits by the touch of my fingers, as a veteran 
story-teller ought to know how to do. 

It will be remembered, that Mr. Bright conde^ 
scended to avail himself of my literary experience by 
constituting me editor of the Wonder Book. As he 
had no reason to complain of the reception of that 
erudite work by the public, he was now disposed to re¬ 
tain me in a similar position, with respect to the pres¬ 
ent volume, which he entitled “ Tanglewood Tales.” 
Not, as Eustace hinted, that there was any real neces¬ 
sity for my services as introductor, inasmuch as his 
own name had become established, in some good de* 
gree of favor, with the literary world. But the con¬ 
nection with myself, he was kind enough to say, had 
been highly agreeable; nor was he by any means de¬ 
sirous, as most people are, of kicking away the ladder 
that had perhaps helped him to reach his present ele¬ 
vation. My young friend was willing, in short, that 
the fresh verdure of his growing reputation should 
spread over my straggling and half - naked boughs ; 
even as I have sometimes thought of training a vine, 
with its broad leafiness, and purple fruitage, over 
the worm-eaten posts and rafters of the rustic sum¬ 
mer-house. I was not insensible to the advantages of 
his proposal, and gladly assured him of my accept¬ 
ance. 

Merely from the titles of the stories, I saw at once 
that the subjects were not less rich than those of the 
former volume ; nor did I at all doubt that Mr. 


THE WAYSIDE 


209 


Bright’s audacity (so far as that endowment might 
avail) had enabled him to take full advantage of what¬ 
ever capabilities they offered. Yet, in spite of my ex¬ 
perience of his free way of handling them, I did not 
quite see, I confess, how he could have obviated all 
the difficulties in the way of rendering them present¬ 
able to children. These old legends, so brimming 
over with everything that is most abhorrent to our 
Christianized moral sense, — some of them so hideous, 
others so melancholy and miserable, amid which the 
Greek tragedians sought their themes, and moulded 
them into the sternest forms of grief that ever the 
world saw; was such material the stuff that children’s 
playthings should be made of ! How were they to be 
purified ? How was the blessed sunshine to be thrown 
into them ? 

But Eustace told me that these myths were the most 
singular things in the world, and that he was invariably 
astonished, whenever he began to relate one, by the 
readiness with which it adapted itself to the childish 
purity of his auditors. The objectionable characteris¬ 
tics seem to be a parasitical growth, having no essen¬ 
tial connection with the original fable. They fall 
away, and are thought of no more, the instant he puts 
his imagination in sympathy with the innocent little 
circle, whose wide-open eyes are fixed so eagerly upon 
him. Thus the stories (not by any strained effort of 
the narrator’s, but in harmony with their inherent 
germ) transform themselves, and reassume the shapes 
which they might be supposed to possess in the pure 
childhood of the world. When the first poet or ro¬ 
mancer told these marvellous legends (such is Eustace 
Bright’s opinion), it was still the Golden Age. Evil 
had never yet existed ; and sorrow, misfortune, crime, 

vox., iv. 14 


210 


THE WAYSIDE 


were mere shadows which the mind fancifully created 
for itself, as a shelter against too sunny realities; or, 
at most, but prophetic dreams, to which the dreamer 
himself did not yield a waking credence. Children 
are now the only representatives of the men and 
women of that happy era ; and therefore it is that we 
must raise the intellect and fancy to the level of child¬ 
hood, in order to re-create the original myths. 

I let the youthful author talk as much and as extrav¬ 
agantly as he pleased, and was glad to see him com¬ 
mencing life with such confidence in himself and his 
performances. A few years will do all that is, neces¬ 
sary towards showing him the truth in both respects. 
Meanwhile, it is but right to say, he does really appear 
to have overcome the moral objections against these 
fables, although at the expense of such liberties with 
dieir structure as must be left to plead their own ex¬ 
cuse, without any help from me. Indeed, except that 
there was a necessity for it, — and that the inner life 
of the legends cannot be come at save by making them 
entirely one’s own property, — there is no defence to 
be made. 

Eustace informed me that he had told his stories to 
die children in various situations, — in the woods, on 
the shore of the lake, in the dell of Shadow Brook, in 
the play-room, at Tanglewood fireside, and in a mag¬ 
nificent palace of snow, with ice windows, which he 
helped his little friends to build. His auditors were 
even more delighted with the contents of the present 
volume than with the specimens which have already 
been given to the world. The classically learned Mr. 
Pringle, too, had listened to two or three of the tales, 
and censured them even more bitterly than he did The 
Three Golden Apples : so that, what with praise, 


THE WAYSIDE 


211 


and what with criticism, Eustace Bright thinks that 
there is good hope of at least as much success with the 
public as in the case of the Wonder Book. 

I made all sorts of inquiries about the children, not 
doubting that there would be great eagerness to hear 
of their welfare among some good little folks who have 
written to me, to ask for another volume of myths. 
They are all, I am happy to say (unless we except 
Clover), in excellent health and spirits. Primrose is 
now almost a young lady, and, Eustace tells me, is 
just as saucy as ever. She pretends to consider her¬ 
self quite beyond the age to be interested by such idle 
stories as these; but, for all that, whenever a story is 
to be told, Primrose never fails to be one of the listen¬ 
ers, and to make fun of it when finished. Periwinkle 
is very much grown, and is expected to shut up her 
baby-house and throw away her doll in a month or 
two more. Sweet Fern has learned to read and write, 
and has put on a jacket and pair of pantaloons, — all 
of which improvements I am sorry for. Squash-Blos¬ 
som, Blue Eye, Plantain, and Buttercup have had the 
scarlet fever, but came easily through it. Huckle¬ 
berry, Milkweed, and Dandelion were attacked with 
the hooping-cough, but bore it bravely, and kept out 
of doors whenever the sun shone. Cowslip, during the 
autumn, had either the measles, or some eruption that 
looked very much like it, but was hardly sick a day. 
Poor Clover has been a good deal troubled with her 
second teeth, which have made her meagre in aspect 
and rather fractious in temper ; nor, even when she 
smiles, is the matter much mended, since it discloses a 
gap just within her lips, almost as wide as the barn 
door. But all this will pass over, and it is predicted 
that she will turn out a very pretty girl. 


212 


THE WAYSIDE 


As for Mr. Bright himself, he is now in his senioi 
year at Williams College, and has a prospect of grad¬ 
uating with some degree of honorable distinction at 
the next Commencement. In his oration for the bach 
elor’s degree, he gives me to understand, he will treat 
of the classical myths, viewed in the aspect of baby 
stories, and has a great mind to discuss the expediency 
of using up the whole of ancient history for the same 
purpose. I do not know what he means to do with 
himself after leaving college, but trust that, by dab¬ 
bling so early with the dangerous and seductive busi¬ 
ness of authorship, he will not be tempted to become 
an author by profession. If so, I shall be very sorry 
for the little that I have had to do with the matter, in 
encouraging these first beginnings. 

I wish there were any likelihood of my soon seeing 
Primrose, Periwinkle, Dandelion, Sweet Fern, Clover, 
Plantain, Huckleberry, Milkweed, Cowslip, Buttercup, 
Blue Eye, and Squash-Blossom again. But as I do 
not know when I shall revisit Tanglewood, and as 
Eustace Bright probably will not ask me to edit a 
third Wonder Book, the public of little folks must 
not expect to hear any more about those dear chil¬ 
dren from me. Heaven bless them, and everybody 
else, whether grown people or children ! 

The Wayside, Concord, Mass, 

March 13. 1853. 


THE Mils OTAUR. 




In the old city of Trcezene, at the foot of a lofty 
mountain, there lived, a very long time ago, a little 
boy named Theseus. His grandfather, King Pittheus, 
was the sovereign of that country, and was reckoned a 
very wise man; so that Theseus, being brought up in 
the royal palace, and being naturally a bright lad, 
could hardly fail of profiting by the old king’s in¬ 
structions. His mother’s name was iEthra. As for 
his father, the boy had never seen him. But, from 
his earliest remembrance, iEthra used to go with little 
Theseus into a wood, and sit down upon a moss-grown 
rock, which was deeply sunken into the earth. Here 
she often talked with her son about his father, and 
said that he was called iEgeus, and that he was a 
great king, and ruled over Attica, and dwelt at 
Athens, which was as famous a city as any in the 
world. Theseus was very fond of hearing about King 
iEgeus, and often asked his good mother 2Ethra why 
he did not come and live with them at Troezene. 

“ Ah, my dear son,” answered iEthra, with a sigh, 
“ a monarch has his people to take care of. The men 
and women over whom he rules are in the place of 
children to him ; and he can seldom spare time to 
love his own children as other parents do. Your 
father will never be able to leave his kingdom for the 
sake of seeing his little boy.” 

“Well, but, dear mother,” asked the boy, “why 
cannot I go to this famous city of Athens, and tel 1 
King Jfeeus that I am his son?” 











214 


THE MINOTAUR 


“ That may happen by and by,” said iEthra. “ Be 
patient, and we shall see. You are not yet big and 
strong enough to set out on such an errand.” 

“And how soon shall I be strong enough?” The¬ 
seus persisted in inquiring. 

“ You are but a tiny boy as yet,” replied his mother. 
“ See if you can lift this rock on which we are sit¬ 
ting? ” 

The little fellow had a great opinion of his own 
strength. So, grasping the rough protuberances of 
the rock, he tugged and toiled amain, and got himself 
quite out of breath, without being able to stir the 
heavy stone. It seemed to be rooted into the ground. 
No wonder he could not move it; for it would have 
taken all the force of a very strong man to lift it out 
of its earthy bed. 

His mother stood looking on, with a sad kind of a 
smile on her lips and in her eyes, to see the zealous 
and yet puny efforts of her little boy. She could not 
help being sorrowful at finding him already so impa¬ 
tient to begin his adventures in the world. 

“ You see how it is, my dear Theseus,” said she. 
“ You must possess far more strength than now before 
I can trust you to go to Athens, and tell King ^Egeus 
that you are his son. But when you can lift this rock, 
and show me what is hidden beneath it, I promise you 
my permission to depart.” 

Often and often, after this, did Theseus ask his 
mother whether it was yet time for him to go to Ath¬ 
ens ; and still his mother pointed to the rock, and told 
him that, for years to come, he could not be strong 
enough to move it. And again and again the rosy- 
cheeked and curly-headed boy would tug and strain at 
the huge mass of stone, striving, child as he was, to 


THE MINOTAUR 


215 


do what a giant could hardly have done without 
taking both of his great hands to the task. Mean* 
while the rock seemed to be sinking farther and farther 
into the ground. The moss grew over it thicker and 
thicker, until at last it looked almost like a soft green 
seat, with only a few gray knobs of granite peeping 
out. The overhanging trees, also, shed their brown 
leaves upon it, as often as the autumn came; and at 
its base grew ferns and wild flowers, some of which 
crept quite over its surface. To all appearance, the 
rock was as firmly fastened as any other portion of 
the earth’s substance. 

But, difficult as the matter looked, Theseus was now 
growing up to be such a vigorous youth, that, in his 
own opinion, the time would quickly come when he 
might hope to get the upper hand of this ponderous 
lump of stone. 

“Mother, I do believe it has started!” cried he, 
after one of his attempts. “The earth around it is 
certainly a little cracked! ” 

“ No, no, child! ” his mother hastily answered. “ It 
is not possible you can have moved it, such a boy as 
you still are! ” 

Nor would she be convinced, although Theseus 
showed her the place where he fancied that the stem 
of a flower had been partly uprooted by the movement 
of the rock. But iEthra sighed and looked disquieted; 
for, no doubt, she began to be conscious that her son 
was no longer a child, and that, in a little while hence, 
she must send him forth among the perils and troubles 
of the world. 

It was not more than a year afterwards when they 
were again sitting on the moss-covered stone. iEthra 
had once more told him the oft-repeated story of his 


216 


THE MINOTAUR 


father, and how gladly he would receive Theseus at his 
stately palace, and how he would present him to his 
courtiers and the people, and tell them that here was 
the heir of his dominions. The eyes of Theseus glowed 
with enthusiasm, and he would hardly sit still to hear 
his mother speak. 

“ Dear mother iEthra,” he exclaimed, “ I never felt 
half so strong as now ! I am no longer a child, nor a 
boy, nor a mere youth ! I feel myself a man ! It is 
now time to make one earnest trial to remove the 
stone.” 

“ Ah, my dearest Theseus,” replied his mother, “ not 
yet! not yet! ” 

“ Yes, mother,” said he, resolutely, “ the time has 
come.” 

Then Theseus bent himself in good earnest to the 
task, and strained every sinew, with manly strength 
and resolution. He put his whole brave heart into the 
effort. He wrestled with the big and sluggish stone, 
as if it had been a living enemy. He heaved, he lift¬ 
ed, he resolved now to succeed, or else to perish there, 
and let the rock be his monument forever! ^Ethra 
stood gazing at him, and clasped her hands, partly 
with a mother’s pride, and partly with a mother’s sor¬ 
row. The great rock stirred ! Yes, it was raised 
slowly from the bedded moss and earth, uprooting the 
shrubs and flowers along with it, and was turned upon 
its side. Theseus had conquered! 

While taking breath, he looked joyfully at his 
mother, and she smiled upon him through her tears. 

“ Yes, Theseus,” she said,“ the time has come, and 
you must stay no longer at my side! See what King 
iEgeus, your royal father, left for you, beneath the 
stone, when he lifted it in his mighty arms, and laid it 
on the spot whence you have now removed it.” 


THE MINOTAUR 217 

Theseus looked, and saw that the rock had been 
placed over another slab of stone, containing a cavity 
within it; so that it somewhat resembled a roughly 
made chest or coffer, of which the upper mass had 
served as the lid. Wdthin the cavity lay a sword, 
with a golden hilt, and a pair of sandals. 

“ That was your father’s sword,” said iEthra, 44 and 
those were his sandals. When he went to be king of 
Athens, he bade me treat you as a child until you 
should prove yourself a man by lifting this heavy 
stone. That task being accomplished, you are to put 
on his sandals, in order to follow in your father’s foot¬ 
steps, and to gird on his sword, so that you may fight 
giants and dragons, as King iEgeus did in his youth.” 

44 1 will set out for Athens this very day! ” cried 
Theseus. 

But his mother persuaded him to stay a day or two 
longer, while she got ready some necessary articles for 
his journey. When his grandfather, the wise King 
Pittheus, heard that Theseus intended to present him¬ 
self at his father’s palace, he earnestly advised him to 
get on board of a vessel, and go by sea; because he 
might thus arrive within fifteen miles of Athens, with¬ 
out either fatigue or danger. 

44 The roads are very bad by land,” quoth the venera¬ 
ble king ; 44 and they are terribly infested with robbers 
and monsters. A mere lad, like Theseus, is not fit to 
be trusted on such a perilous journey, all by himself. 
No, no ; let him go by sea ! ” 

But when Theseus heard of robbers and monsters, he 
pricked up his ears, and was so much the more eager 
to take the road along which they were to be met with. 
On the third day, therefore, he bade a respectful fare¬ 
well to his grandfather, thanking him for all his kind- 


218 


THE MINOTAUR 


ness, and, after affectionately embracing his mother, 
he set forth, with a good many of her tears glistening 
on his cheeks, and some, if the truth must be told, that 
had gushed out of his own eyes. But he let the sun 
and wind dry them, and walked stoutly on, playing 
with the golden hilt of his sword and taking very 
manly strides in his father’s sandals. 

I cannot stop to tell you hardly any of the adven¬ 
tures that befell Theseus on the road to Athens. It is 
enough to say, that he quite cleared that part of the 
country of the robbers, about whom King Pittheus had 
been so much alarmed. One of these bad people was 
named Procrustes; and he was indeed a terrible fellow, 
and had an ugly way of making fun of the poor trav¬ 
ellers who happened to fall into his clutches. In his 
cavern he had a bed, on which, with great pretence of 
hospitality, he invited his guests to lie down ; but if 
they happened to be shorter than the bed, this wicked 
villain stretched them out by main force; or, if they 
were too long, he lopped off their heads or feet, and 
laughed at what he had done, as an excellent joke. 
Thus, however weary a man might be, he never liked 
to lie in the bed of Procrustes. Another of these rob¬ 
bers, named Scinis, must likewise have been a very 
great scoundrel. He was in the habit of flinging his 
victims off a high cliff into the sea; and, in order to 
give him exactly his deserts, Theseus tossed him off 
the very same place. But if you will believe me, the 
sea would not pollute itself by receiving such a bad 
person into its bosom, neither would the earth, having 
once got rid of him, consent to take him back; so 
that, between the cliff and the sea, Scinis stuck fast in 
the air, which was forced to bear the burden of his 
naughtiness. 


THE MINOTAUR 


219 


After these memorable deeds, Theseus heard of an 
enormous sow, which ran wild, and was the terror of 
all the farmers round about; and, as he did not con¬ 
sider himself above doing any good thing that came in 
his way, he killed this monstrous creature, and gave 
the carcass to the poor people for bacon. The great 
sow had been an awful beast, while ramping about the 
woods and fields, but was a pleasant object enough 
when cut up into joints, and smoking on I know not 
how many dinner tables. 

Thus, by the time he reached his journey’s end, 
Theseus had done many valiant feats with his father’s 
golden-hilted sword, and had gained the renown of be¬ 
ing one of the bravest young men of the day. His 
fame travelled faster than he did, and reached Athens 
before him. As he entered the city, he heard the in¬ 
habitants talking at the street-corners, and saying that 
Hercules was brave, and Jason too, and Castor and 
Pollux likewise, but that Theseus, the son of their 
own king, would turn out as great a hero as the best 
of them. Theseus took longer strides on hearing this, 
and fancied himself sure of a magnificent reception at 
his father’s court, since he came thither with Fame to 
blow her trumpet before him, and cry to King iEgeus, 
“ Behold your son! ” 

He little suspected, innocent youth that he was, that 
here, in this very Athens, where his father reigned, a 
greater danger awaited him than any which he had en¬ 
countered on the road. Yet this was the truth. You 
must understand that the father of Theseus, though 
not very old in years, was almost worn out with the 
cares of government, and had thus grown aged before 
his time. His nephews, not expecting him to live a 
yery great while, intended to get all the power of the 


220 


THE MINOTAUR 


kingdom into their own hands. But when they heard 
that Theseus had arrived in Athens, and learned what 
a gallant young man he was, they saw that he would 
not be at all the kind of person to let them steal away 
his father’s crown and sceptre, which ought to be his 
own by right of inheritance. Thus these bad-hearted 
nephews of King iEgeus, who were the own cousins of 
Theseus, at once became his enemies. A still more 
dangerous enemy was Medea, the wicked enchantress ; 
for she was now the king’s wife, and wanted to give 
the kingdom to her son Medus, instead of letting it be 
given to the son of iEthra, whom she hated. 

It so happened that the king’s nephews met The¬ 
seus, and found out who he was, just as he reached 
the entrance of the royal palace. With all their evil 
designs against him, they pretended to be their cous¬ 
in’s best friends, and expressed great joy at making 
his acquaintance. They proposed to him that he 
should come into the king’s presence as a stranger, in 
order to try whether iEgeus would discover in the 
young man's features any likeness either to himself or 
his mother ^Ethra, and thus recognize him for a son. 
Theseus consented; for he fancied that his father 
would know him in a moment, by the love that was in 
bis heart. But, while he waited at the door, the neph¬ 
ews ran and told King iEgeus that a young man had 
arrived in Athens, who, to their certain knowledge, in¬ 
tended to put him to death, and get possession of his 
royal crown. 

“ And he is now waiting for admission to your Maj¬ 
esty’s presence,” added they. 

“ Aha ! ” cried the old king, on hearing this. 
“ Why, he must be a very wicked young fellow in¬ 
deed ! Pray, what would you advise me to do with 
him?” 


THE MINOTAUR 


221 


In reply to this question, the wicked Medea put in 
her word. As I have already told you, she was a fa¬ 
mous enchantress. According to some stories, she 
was in the habit of boiling old people in a large cal¬ 
dron, under pretence of making them young again ; 
but King iEgeus, I suppose, did not fancy such an un¬ 
comfortable way of growing young, or perhaps was 
contented to be old, and therefore would never let 
himself be popped into the caldron. If there were 
time to spare from more important matters, I should 
be glad to tell you of Medea’s fiery chariot, drawn by 
winged dragons, in which the enchantress used often 
to take an airing among the clouds. This chariot, in 
fact, was the vehicle that first brought her to Athens, 
where she had done nothing but mischief ever since 
her arrival. But these and many other wonders must 
be left untold ; and it is enough to say, that Medea, 
amongst a thousand other bad things, knew how to 
prepare a poison, that was instantly fatal to whomso¬ 
ever might so much as touch it with his lips. 

So, when the king asked what he should do with 
Theseus, this naughty woman had an answer ready at 
her tongue’s end. 

“ Leave that to me, please your Majesty,” she re¬ 
plied. “ Only admit this evil-minded young man to 
your presence, treat him civilly, and invite him to 
drink a goblet of wine. Your Majesty is well aware 
that I sometimes amuse myself with distilling very 
powerful medicines. Here is one of them in this 
small phial. As to what it is made of, that is one of 
my secrets of state. Do but let me put a single drop 
into the goblet, and let the young man taste it; and I 
will answer for it, he shall quite lay aside the bad de¬ 
signs with which he comes hither.” 


222 


THE MINOTAUR 


As she said this, Medea smiled; but, for all her 
smiling face, she meant nothing less than to poison 
the poor innocent Theseus, before his father’s eyes. 
And King iEgeus, like most other kings, thought any 
punishment mild enough for a person who was ac¬ 
cused of plotting against his life. He therefore made 
little or no objection to Medea’s scheme, and as soon 
as the poisonous wine was ready, gave orders that the 
young stranger should be admitted into his presence. 
The goblet was set on a table beside the king’s throne; 
and a fly, meaning just to sip a little from the brim, 
immediately tumbled into it, dead. Observing this, 
Medea looked round at the nephews, and smiled 
again. 

When Theseus was ushered into the royal apart¬ 
ment, the only object that he seemed to behold was 
the white-bearded old king. There he sat on his mag¬ 
nificent throne, a dazzling crown on his head, and a 
sceptre in his hand. His aspect was stately and ma¬ 
jestic, although his years and infirmities weighed heav¬ 
ily upon him, as if each year were a lump of lead, and 
each infirmity a ponderous stone, and all were bun¬ 
dled up together, and laid upon his weary shoulders. 
The tears both of joy and sorrow sprang into the 
young man’s eyes; for he thought how sad it was to 
see his dear father so infirm, and how sweet it would 
be to support him with his own youthful strength, and 
to cheer him up with the alacrity of his loving spirit. 
When a son takes his father into his warm heart, it 
renews the old man’s youth in a better way than by 
the heat of Medea’s magic caldron. And this was 
what Theseus resolved to do. He could scarcely wait 
to see whether King iEgeus would recognize him, so 
eager was he to throw himself into his arms. 


THE MINOTAUR 


223 


Advancing to the foot of the throne, he attempted 
to make a little speech, which he had been thinking 
about, as he came up the stairs. But he was almost 
choked by a great many tender feelings that gushed 
out of his heart and swelled into his throat, all strug¬ 
gling to find utterance together. And therefore, un¬ 
less he could have laid his full, over-brimming heart 
into the king’s hand, poor Theseus knew not what to 
do or say. The cunning Medea observed what was 
passing in the young man’s mind. She was more 
wicked at that moment than ever she had been before; 
for (and it makes me tremble to tell you of it) she 
did her worst to turn all this unspeakable love with 
which Theseus was agitated, to his own ruin and de- 
struction. 

“ Does your Majesty see his confusion ? ” she whis- 
pered in the king’s ear. “ He is so conscious of guilt, 
that he trembles and cannot speak. The wretch lives 
too long! Quick ! offer him the wine ! 

Now King iEgeus had been gazing earnestly at the 
young stranger, as he drew near the throne. There 
was something, he knew not what, either in his white 
brow, or in the fine expression of his mouth, or in his 
beautiful and tender eyes, that made him indistinctly 
feel as if he had seen this youth before ; as if, indeed, 
he had trotted him on his knee when a baby, and had 
beheld him growing to be a stalwart man, while he 
himself grew old. But Medea guessed how the king 
felt, and would not suffer him to yield to these natural 
sensibilities ; although they were the voice of his deep¬ 
est heart, telling him, as plainly as it could speak, that 
here was his dear son, and iEthra’s son, coming to 
claim him for a father. The enchantress again whis¬ 
pered in the king’s ear, and compelled him, by her 
witchcraft, to see everything under a false aspect. 


224 


THE MINOTAUR 


He made up his mind, therefore, to let Theseus drink 
off the poisoned wine. 

“Young man,” said he, “you are welcome! I am 
proud to show hospitality to so heroic a youth. Do 
me the favor to drink the contents of this goblet. It 
is brimming over, as you see, with delicious wine, such 
as I bestow only on those who are worthy of it! None 
is more worthy to quaff it than yourself! ” 

So saying, King HCgeus took the golden goblet from 
the table, and was about to offer it to Theseus. But, 
partly through his infirmities, and partly because it 
seemed so sad a thing to take away this young man’s 
life, however wicked he might be, and partly, no doubt, 
because his heart was wiser than his head, and quaked 
within him at the thought of what he was going to do, 
— for all these reasons, the king’s hand trembled so 
much that a great deal of the wine slopped over. In 
order to strengthen his purpose, and fearing lest the 
whole of the precious poison should be wasted, one of 
his nephews now whispered to him, — 

“ Has your Majesty any doubt of this stranger’s 
guilt ? There is the very sword with which he meant 
to slay you. How sharp, and bright, and terrible it 
is ! Quick! — let him taste the wine ; or perhaps he 
may do the deed even yet.” 

At these words, iEgeus drove every thought and 
feeling out of his breast, except the one idea of how 
justly the young man deserved to be put to death. 
He sat erect on his throne, and held out the goblet of 
wine with a steady hand, and bent on Theseus a frown 
of kingly severity; for, after all, he had too noble a 
spirit to murder even a treacherous enemy with a de¬ 
ceitful smile upon his face. 

“ Drink ! ” said he, in the stern tone with which 


THE MINOTAUR 


225 


he was wont to condemn a criminal to be beheaded. 
“ You have well deserved of me such wine as this ! ” 
Theseus held out his hand to take the wine. But, 
before he touched it, King iEgeus trembled again. 
His eyes had fallen on the gold-hilted sword that hung 
at the young man’s side. He drew back the goblet. 

“ That sword ! ” he cried ; “ how came you by it ? 

“ It was my father’s sword,” replied Theseus, with 
a tremulous voice. “ These were his sandals. My 
dear mother (her name is iEthra) told me his story 
while I was yet a little child. But it is only a month 
since I grew strong enough to lift the heavy stone, 
and take the sword and sandals from beneath it, and 
come to Athens to seek my father.” 

“ My son ! my son ! ” cried King .ZEgeus, flinging 
away the fatal goblet, and tottering down from the 
throne to fall into the arms of Theseus. “ Yes, these 
are HCthra’s eyes. It is my son.” 

I have quite forgotten what became of the king’s 
nephews. But when the wicked Medea saw this new 
turn of affairs, she hurried out of the room, and going 
to her private chamber, lost no time in setting her en¬ 
chantments at work. In a few moments, she heard a 
great noise of hissing snakes outside of the chamber 
window ; and, behold! there was her fiery chariot, and 
four huge winged serpents, wriggling and twisting in 
the air, flourishing their tails higher than the top of 
the palace, and all ready to set off on an aerial jour¬ 
ney. Medea stayed only long enough to take her son 
with her, and to steal the crown jewels, together with 
the king’s best robes, and whatever other valuable 
things she could lay hands on; and getting into the 
chariot, she whipped up the snakes, and ascended high 
over the city, 
rou iv. 


226 


THE MINOTAUR 


The king, hearing the hiss of the serpents, scrambled 
as fast as he could to the window, and bawled out to 
the abominable enchantress never to come back. The 
whole people of Athens, too, who had run out of doors 
to see this wonderful spectacle, set up a shout of joy 
at the prospect of getting rid of her. Medea, almost 
bursting with rage, uttered precisely such a hiss as 
one of her own snakes, only ten times more venomous 
and spiteful; and glaring fiercely out of the blaze of 
the chariot, she shook her hands over the multitude 
below, as if she were scattering a million of curses 
among them. In so doing, however, she unintention¬ 
ally let fall about five hundred diamonds of the first 
water, together with a thousand great pearls, and two 
thousand emeralds, rubies, sapphires, opals, and to¬ 
pazes, to which she had helped herself out of the king’s 
strong-box. All these came pelting down, like a shower 
of many-colored hailstones, upon the heads of grown 
people and children, who forthwith gathered them up 
and carried them back to the palace. But King TRgens 
told them that they were welcome to the whole, and 
to twice as many more, if he had them, for the sake 
of his delight at finding his son, and losing the wicked 
Medea. And, indeed, if you had seen how hateful 
was her last look, as the flaming chariot flew upward, 
you would not have wondered that both king and peo¬ 
ple should think her departure a good riddance. 

And now Prince Theseus was taken into great favoi 
by his royal father. The old king was never weary of 
having him sit beside him on his throne (which was 
quite wide enough for two), and of hearing him tell 
about his dear mother, and his childhood, and his 
many boyish efforts to lift the ponderous stone. The¬ 
seus, however, was much too brave and active a young 


THE MINOTAUR 


227 


man to be willing to spend all his time in relating 
things which had already happened. His ambition 
was to perform other and more heroic deeds, which 
should be better worth telling in prose and verse. Nor 
had he been long in Athens before he caught and 
chained a terrible mad bull, and made a public show 
of him, greatly to the wonder and admiration of good 
King H£geus and his subjects. But pretty soon, he 
undertook an affair that made all his foregone adven¬ 
tures seem like mere boy’s play. The occasion of it 
was as follows : — 

One morning, when Prince Theseus awoke, he fancied 
that he must have had a very sorrowful dream, and 
that it was still running in his mind, even now that 
his eyes were open. For it appeared as if the air was 
full of a melancholy wail; and when he listened more 
attentively, he could hear sobs and groans, and screams 
of woe, mingled with deep, quiet sighs, which came 
from the king’s palace, and from the streets, and from 
the temples, and from every habitation in the city. 
And all these mournful noises, issuing out of thou¬ 
sands of separate hearts, united themselves into the 
one great sound of affliction, which had startled The¬ 
seus from slumber. He put on his clothes as quickly 
as he could (not forgetting his sandals and gold-hilted 
sword), and hastening to the king, inquired what it 
all meant. 

“ Alas ! my son,” quoth King iEgeus, heaving a long 
sigh, “ here is a very lamentable matter in hand ! This 
is the wofullest anniversary in the whole year. It is 
the day when we annually draw lots to see which of 
the youths and maidens of Athens shall go to be de¬ 
voured by the horrible Minotaur! ” 

“ The Minotaur ! ” exclaimed Prince Theseus; and, 


228 


THE MINOTAUR 


like a brave young prince as he was, he put his hand 
to the hilt of his sword. “ What kind of a monster 
may that be ? Is it not possible, at the risk of one’s 
life, to slay him ? ” 

But King iEgeus shook his venerable head, and to 
convince Theseus that it was quite a hopeless case, he 
gave him an explanation of the whole affair. It seems 
that in the island of Crete there lived a certain dread¬ 
ful monster, called a Minotaur, which was shaped 
partly like a man and partly like a bull, and was al¬ 
together such a hideous sort of a creature that it is 
really disagreeable to think of him. If he were suf¬ 
fered to exist at all, it should have been on some desert 
island, or in the duskiness of some deep cavern, where 
nobody would ever be tormented by his abominable 
aspect. But King Minos, who reigned over Crete, 
laid out a vast deal of money in building a habitation 
for the Minotaur, and took great care of his health 
and comfort, merely for mischief’s sake. A few years 
before this time, there had been a war between the 
city of Athens and the island of Crete, in which the 
Athenians were beaten, and compelled to beg for 
peace. No peace could they obtain, however, except 
on condition that they should send seven young men 
and seven maidens, every year, to be devoured by the 
pet monster of the cruel King Minos. For three years 
past, this grievous calamity had been borne. And the 
sobs, and groans, and shrieks, with which the city was 
now filled, were caused by the people’s woe, because 
the fatal day had come again, when the fourteen vic¬ 
tims were to be chosen by lot; and the old people 
feared lest their sons or daughters might be taken, 
and the youths and damsels dreaded lest they them¬ 
selves might be destined to glut the ravenous maw of 
that detestable man-brute. 


THE MINOTAUR 229 

But when Theseus heard the story, he straightened 
himself up, so that he seemed taller than ever before ; 
and as for his face, it was indignant, despiteful, bold, 
tender, and compassionate, all in one look. 

“ Let the people of Athens, this year, draw lots for 
only six young men, instead of seven,” said he. “ I 
will myself be the seventh ; and let the Minotaur de¬ 
vour me, if he can ! ” 

“ O my dear son,” cried King iEgeus, “ why should 
you expose yourself to this horrible fate ? You are a 
royal prince, and have a right to hold yourself above 
the destinies of common men.” 

“It is because I am a prince, your son, and the 
rightful heir of your kingdom, that I freely take upon 
me the calamity of your subjects,” answered Theseus. 
“ And you, my father, being king over this people, and 
answerable to Heaven for their welfare, are bound to 
sacrifice what is dearest to you, rather than that the 
son or daughter of the poorest citizen should come 
to any harm.” 

The old king shed tears, and besought Theseus not 
to leave him desolate in his old age, more especially as 
he had but just begun to know the happiness of pos¬ 
sessing a good and valiant son. Theseus, however, felt 
that he was in the right, and therefore would not give 
up his resolution. But he assured his father that he 
did not intend to be eaten up, unresistingly, like a 
sheep, and that, if the Minotaur devoured him, it 
should not be without a battle for his dinner. And 
finally, since he could not help it, King HDgeus con¬ 
sented to let him go. So a vessel was got ready, and 
rigged with black sails ; and Theseus, with six other 
young men, and seven tender and beautiful damsels, 
came down to the harbor to embark. A sorrowful 


230 


THE MINOTAUR 


multitude accompanied them to the shore. There was 
the poor old king, too, leaning on his son’s arm, and 
looking as if his single heart held all the grief of 
Athens. 

Just as Prince Theseus was going on board, his 
father bethought himself of one last word to say. 

“ My beloved son,” said he, grasping the prince’s 
hand, “you observe that the sails of this vessel are 
black ; as indeed they ought to be, since it goes upon 
a voyage of sorrow and despair. Now, being weighed 
down with infirmities, I know not whether I can sur* 
vive till the vessel shall return. But, as long as I do 
live, I shall creep daily to the top of yonder cliff, to 
watch if there be a sail upon the sea. And, dearest 
Theseus, if by some happy chance you should escape 
the jaws of the Minotaur, then tear down those dismal 
sails, and hoist others that shall be bright as the sun¬ 
shine. Beholding them on the horizon, myself and all 
the people will know that you are coming back victo¬ 
rious, and will welcome you with such a festal uproar 
as Athens never heard before.” 

Theseus promised that he would do so. Then, going 
on board, the mariners trimmed the vessel’s black 
sails to the wind, which blew faintly off the shore, be¬ 
ing pretty much made up of the sighs that everybody 
kept pouring forth on this melancholy occasion. But 
by and by, when they had got fairly out to sea, there 
came a stiff breeze from the northwest, and drove 
them along as merrily over the white-capped waves as 
if they had been going on the most delightful errand 
imaginable. And though it was a sad business enough, 
I rather question whether fourteen young people, with¬ 
out any old persons to keep them in order, could con¬ 
tinue to spend the whole time of the voyage in being 


THE MINOTAUR 


231 


miserable. There had been some few dances upon the 
undulating deck, I suspect, and some hearty bursts 
of laughter, and other such unseasonable merriment 
among the victims, before the high, blue mountains of 
Crete began to show themselves among the far-off 
clouds. That sight, to be sure, made them all very 
grave again. 

Theseus stood among the sailors, gazing eagerly to¬ 
wards the land ; although, as yet, it seemed hardly 
more substantial than the clouds, amidst which the 
mountains were looming up. Once or twice, he fan¬ 
cied that he saw a glare of some bright object, a long 
way off, flinging a gleam across the waves. 

“ Did you see that flash of light ? ” he inquired of 
the master of the vessel. 

“ No, prince ; but I have seen it before,” answered 
the master. “ It came from Talus, I suppose.” 

As the breeze came fresher just then, the master 
was busy with trimming his sails, and had no more 
time to answer questions. But while the vessel flew 
faster and faster towards Crete, Theseus was aston¬ 
ished to behold a human figure, gigantic in size, which 
appeared to be striding with a measured movement, 
along the margin of the island. It stepped from cliff 
to cliff, and sometimes from one headland to another, 
while the sea foamed and thundered on the shore be¬ 
neath, and dashed its jets of spray over the giant’s 
feet. What was still more remarkable, whenever the 
sun shone on this huge figure, it flickered and glim¬ 
mered ; its vast countenance, too, had a metallic lustre, 
and threw great flashes of splendor through the air. 
The folds of its garments, moreover, instead of wav¬ 
ing in the wind, fell heavily over its limbs, as if woven 
of some kind of metal. 


232 


THE MINOTAUR 


The nigher the vessel came, the more Theseus won¬ 
dered what this immense giant could be, and whether 
it actually had life or no. For though it walked, and 
made other lifelike motions, there yet was a kind of 
jerk in its gait, which, together with its brazen aspect, 
caused the young prince to suspect that it was no true 
giant, but only a wonderful piece of machinery. The 
ftgure looked all the more terrible because it carried 
an enormous brass club on its shoulder. 

“ What is this wonder ? ” Theseus asked of the 
master of the vessel, who was now at leisure to answer 
him. 

“ It is Talus, the Man of Brass,” said the master. 

“ And is he a live giant, or a brazen image ? ” asked 
Theseus. 

“ That, truly,” replied the master, “ is the point 
which has always perplexed me. Some say, indeed, 
that this Talus was hammered out for King Minos by 
Vulcan himself, the skilfullest of all workers in metal. 
But who ever saw a brazen image that had sense 
enough to walk round an island three times a day, as 
this giant walks round the island of Crete, challenging 
every vessel that comes nigh the shore ? And, on the 
other hand, what living thing, unless his sinews were 
made of brass, would not be weary of marching eigh¬ 
teen hundred miles in the twenty-four hours, as Talus 
does, without ever sitting down to rest ? He is a puz¬ 
zler, take him how you will.” 

Still the vessel went bounding onward ; and now 
Theseus could hear the brazen clangor of the giant’s 
footsteps, as he trod heavily upon the sea-beaten rocks, 
some of which were seen to crack and crumble into the 
foamy waves beneath his weight. As they approached 
the entrance of the port, the giant straddled clear across 


THE MINOTAUR 


233 


it, with a foot firmly planted on each headland, and 
?iplifting his club to such a height that its but-end was 
hidden in a cloud, he stood in that formidable posture, 
with the sun gleaming all over his metallic surface. 
There seemed nothing else to be expected but that, the 
next moment, he would fetch his great club down, slam 
Dang, and smash the vessel into a thousand pieces, 
without heeding how many innocent people he might 
destroy; for there is seldom any mercy in a giant, you 
know, and quite as little in a piece of brass clock¬ 
work. But just when Theseus and his companions 
thought the blow was coming, the brazen lips unclosed 
themselves, and the figure spoke. 

“ Whence come you, strangers ? ” 

And when the ringing voice ceased, there was just 
such a reverberation as you may have heard within a 
great church bell, for a moment or two after the stroke 
of the hammer. 

“ From Athens ! ” shouted the master in reply. 

“ On what errand ? ” thundered the Man of Brass. 

And he whirled his club aloft more threateningly 
than ever, as if he were about to smite them with a 
thunder-stroke right amidships, because Athens, so 
little while ago, had been at war with Crete. 

“We bring the seven youths and the seven maid¬ 
ens,” answered the master, “ to be devoured by the 
Minotaur! ” 

“ Pass ! ” cried the brazen giant. 

That one loud word rolled all about the sky, while 
again there was a booming reverberation within the 
figure’s breast. The vessel glided between the head¬ 
lands of the port, and the giant resumed his march. 
In a few moments, this wondrous sentinel was far 
away, flashing in the distant sunshine, and revolving 


234 


THE MINOTAUR 


( 

with immense strides around the island of Crete, as it 
was his never-ceasing task to do. 

No sooner had they entered the harbor than a party 
of the guards of King Minos came down to the water¬ 
side, and took charge of the fourteen young men and 
damsels. Surrounded by these armed warriors, Prince 
Theseus and his companions were led to the king’s 
palace, and ushered into his presence. Now, Minos 
was a stern and pitiless king. If the figure that 
guarded Crete was made of brass, then the monarch, 
who ruled over it, might be thought to have a still 
harder metal in his breast, and might have been called 
a man of iron. He bent his shaggy brows upon the 
poor Athenian victims. Any other mortal, beholding 
their fresh and tender beauty, and their innocent 
looks, would have felt himself sitting on thorns until 
he had made every soul of them happy, by bidding 
them go free as the summer wind. But this immiti¬ 
gable Minos cared only to examine whether they were 
plump enough to satisfy the Minotaur’s appetite. For 
my part, I wish he himself had been the only victim ; 
and the monster would have found him a pretty tough 
one. 

One after another, King Minos called these pale, 
frightened youths and sobbing maidens to his foot¬ 
stool, gave them each a poke in the ribs with his 
sceptre (to try whether they were in good flesh or no), 
and dismissed them with a nod to his guards. But 
when his eyes rested on Theseus, the king looked at 
him more attentively, because his face was calm and 
brave. 

“ Young man,” asked he, with his stern voice, “ are 
you not appalled at the certainty of being devoured by 
this terrible Minotaur ? ” 


THE MINOTAUR 


235 


u I have offered my life in a good cause,” answered 
Theseus, “ and therefore I give it freely and gladly. 
But thou, King Minos, art thou not thyself appalled, 
who, year after year, hast perpetrated this dreadful 
wrong, by giving seven innocent youths and as many 
maidens to be devoured by a monster ? Dost thou not 
tremble, wicked king, to turn thine eyes inward on 
thine own heart ? Sitting there on thy golden throne, 
and in thy robes of majesty, I tell thee to thy face, 
King Minos, thou art a more hideous monster than 
the Minotaur himself ! ” 

“Aha! do you think me so?” cried the king, 
laughing in his cruel way. “ To-morrow, at breakfast¬ 
time, you shall have an opportunity of judging which 
is the greater monster, the Minotaur or the king! 
Take them away, guards; and let this free-spoken 
youth be the Minotaur’s first morsel! ” 

Near the king’s throne (though I had no time to 
tell you so before) stood his daughter Ariadne. She 
was a beautiful and tender-hearted maiden, and looked 
at these poor doomed captives with very different feel¬ 
ings from those of the iron-breasted King Minos. She 
really wept, indeed, at the idea of how much human 
happiness w'ould be needlessly thrown away, by giving 
so many young people, in the first bloom and rose 
blossom of their lives, to be eaten up by a creature 
who, no doubt, would have preferred a fat ox, or even 
a large pig, to the plumpest of them. And when she 
beheld the brave, spirited figure of Prince Theseus 
bearing himself so calmly in his terrible peril, she 
grew a hundred times more pitiful than before. As 
the guards were taking him away, she flung herself at 
the king’s feet, and besought him to set all the cap 
tives free, especially this one young man. 


236 


THE MINOTAUR 


“ Peace, foolish girl! ” answered King Minos. 
“ What hast thou to do with an affair like this ? It is 
a matter of state policy, and therefore quite beyond 
thy weak comprehension. Go water thy flowers, and 
think no more of these Athenian caitiffs, whom the 
Minotaur shall as certainly eat up for breakfast as I 
will eat a partridge for my supper.” 

So saying, the king looked cruel enough to devour 
Theseus and all the rest of the captives, himself, had 
there been no Minotaur to save him the trouble. As 
he would hear not another word in their favor, the 
prisoners were now led away, and clapped into a dun¬ 
geon, where the jailer advised them to go to sleep as 
soon as possible, because the Minotaur was in the 
habit of calling for breakfast early. The seven maid¬ 
ens and six of the young men soon sobbed themselves 
to slumber! But Theseus was not like them. He felt 
conscious that he was wiser and braver and stronger 
than his companions, and that therefore he had the re¬ 
sponsibility of all their lives upon him, and must con¬ 
sider whether there was no way to save them, even in 
this last extremity. So he kept himself awake, and 
paced to and fro across the gloomy dungeon in which 
they were shut up. 

Just before midnight, the door was softly unbarred, 
and the gentle Ariadne showed herself, with a torch 
in her hand. 

“ Are you awake, Prince Theseus ? ” she whispered. 

“ Yes,” answered Theseus. “ With so little time 
to live, I do not choose to waste any of it in sleep.” 

“Then follow me,” said Ariadne, “and tread softly.” 

What had become of the jailer and the guards, 
Theseus never knew. But however that might be, 
Ariadne opened all the doors, and led him forth from 
the darksome prison into the pleasant moonlight. 


THE MINOTAUR 237 

“ Theseus,’' said the maiden, “ you can now get on 
board your vessel, and sail away for Athens.” 

“ No,” answered the young man ; “ I will never 
leave Crete unless I can first slay the Minotaur, and 
save my poor companions, and deliver Athens from 
this cruel tribute.” 

“ I knew that this would be your resolution,” said 
Ariadne. “ Come, then, with me, brave Theseus. 
Here is your own sword, which the guards deprived 
you of. You will need it; and pray Heaven you may 
use it well.” 

Then she led Theseus along by the hand until they 
came to a dark, shadowy grove, where the moonlight 
wasted itself on the tops of the trees, without shed¬ 
ding hardly so much as a glimmering beam upon their 
pathway. After going a good way through this ob¬ 
scurity, they reached a high, marble wall, which was 
overgrown with creeping plants, that made it shaggy 
with their verdure. The wall seemed to have no door, 
nor any windows, but rose up, lofty, and massive, and 
mysterious, and was neither to be clambered over, nor, 
so far as Theseus could perceive, to be passed through. 
Nevertheless, Ariadne did but press one of her soft 
little fingers against a particular block of marble, and, 
though it looked as solid as any other part of the wall, 
it yielded to her touch, disclosing an entrance just 
wide enough to admit them. They crept through, and 
the marble stone swung back into its place. 

“We are now,” said Ariadne, “in the famous laby¬ 
rinth which Diedalus built before he made himself a 
pair of wings, and flew away from our island like a 
bird. That Daedalus was a very cunning workman ; 
but of all his artful contrivances, this labyrinth is the 
most wondrous. Were we to take but a few steps from 


238 


THE MINOTAUR 


the doorway, we might wander about all our lifetime, 
and never find it again. Yet in the very centre of 
this labyrinth is the Minotaur; and, Theseus, you 
must go thither to seek him.” 

“ But how shall I ever find him,” asked Theseus, 
“ if the labyrinth so bewilders me as you say it will ? ” 

Just as he spoke they heard a rough and very dis¬ 
agreeable roar, which greatly resembled the lowing of 
a fierce bull, but yet had some sort of sound like the 
human voice. Theseus even fancied a rude articula¬ 
tion in it, as if the creature that uttered it were trying 
to shape his hoarse breath into words. It was at some 
distance, however, and he really could not tell whether 
it sounded most like a bull’s roar or a man’s harsh 
voice. 

“ That is the Minotaur’s noise,” whispered Ariadne, 
closely grasping the hand of Theseus, and pressing 
one of her own hands to her heart, which was all in a 
tremble. “ You must follow that sound through the 
windings of the labyrinth, and, by and by, you will 
find him. Stay ! take the end of this silken string; 
I will hold the other end; and then, if you win the 
victory, it will lead you again to this spot. Farewell, 
brave Theseus.” 

So the young man took the end of the silken string 
in his left hand, and his gold-hilted sword, ready drawn 
from its scabbard, in the other, and trod boldly into 
the inscrutable labyrinth. How this labyrinth was 
built is more than I can tell you. But so cunningly 
contrived a mizmaze was never seen in the world, be¬ 
fore nor since. There can be nothing else so intricate, 
unless it were the brain of a man like Daedalus, who 
planned it, or the heart of any ordinary man ; which 
last, to be sure, is ten times as great a mystery as the 


TIIE MINOTAUR 


239 


labyrinth of Crete. Theseus had not taken five steps 
before he lost sight of Ariadne ; and in five more his 
head was growing dizzy. But still he went on, now 
creeping through a low arch, now ascending a flight of 
steps, now in one crooked passage and now in another, 
with hero a door opening before him, and there one 
banging behind, until it really seemed as if the walls 
spun round, and whirled him round along with them. 
And all the while, through these hollow avenues, now 
nearer, now farther off again, resounded the cry of the 
Minotaur; and the sound was so fierce, so cruel, so ugly, 
so like a bull’s roar, and withal so like a human voice, 
and yet like neither of them, that the brave heart of 
Theseus grew sterner and angrier at every step; for 
he felt it an insult to the moon and sky, and to our af¬ 
fectionate and simple Mother Earth, that such a mon¬ 
ster should have the audacity to exist. 

As he passed onward, the clouds gathered over the 
moon, and the labyrinth grew so dusky that Theseus 
could no longer discern the bewilderment through 
which he was passing. lie would have felt quite lost, 
and utterly hopeless of ever again walking in a straight 
path, if, every little while, he had not been conscious 
of a gentle twitch at the silken cord. Then he knew 
that the tender-hearted Ariadne was still holding the 
other end, and that she was fearing for him, and hop¬ 
ing for him, and giving him just as much of her sym¬ 
pathy as if she were close by his side. Oh, indeed, I 
can assure you, there was a vast deal of human sym¬ 
pathy running along that slender thread of silk. But 
still he followed the dreadful roar of the Minotaur, 
which now grew louder and louder, and finally so very 
loud that Theseus fully expected to come close upon 
him, at every new zigzag and wriggle of the path. 


240 


THE MINOTAUR 


And at last, in an open space, at tlie very centre of 
the labyrinth, he did discern the hideous creature. 

Sure enough, what an ugly monster it was ! Only 
his horned head belonged to a bull; and yet, somehow 
or other, he looked like a bull all over, preposterously 
waddling on his hind legs ; or, if you happened to 
view him in another way, he seemed wholly a man, and 
all the more monstrous for being so. And there he 
was, the wretched thing, with no society, no compan¬ 
ion, no kind of a mate, living only to do mischief, and 
incapable of knowing what affection means. Theseus 
hated him, and shuddered at him, and yet could not 
but be sensible of some sort of pity; and all the more, 
the uglier and more detestable the creature was. For 
he kept striding to and fro in a solitary frenzy of rage, 
continually emitting a hoarse roar, which was oddly 
mixed up with half-shaped words; and, after listening 
awhile, Theseus understood that the Minotaur was say¬ 
ing to himself how miserable he was, and how hungry, 
and how he hated everybody, and how he longed to 
eat up the human race alive. 

Ah, the bull-headed villain ! And O, my good lit¬ 
tle people, you will perhaps see, one of these days, as 
I do now, that every human being who suffers any¬ 
thing evil to get into his nature, or to remain there, is 
a kind of Minotaur, an enemy of his fellow-creatures, 
and separated from all good companionship, as this 
poor monster was. 

Was Theseus afraid? By no means, my dear audi¬ 
tors. What! a hero like Theseus afraid! Not had the 
Minotaur had twenty bull heads instead of one. Bold 
as he was, however, I rather fancy that it strengthened 
his valiant heart, just at this crisis, to feel a tremulous 
twitch at the silken cord, which he was still holding in 


THE MINOTAUR 


241 


his left hand. It was as if Ariadne were giving him 
all her might and courage ; and, much as he already 
had, and little as she had to give, it made his own 
seem twice as much. And to confess the honest truth, 
he needed the whole; for now the Minotaur, turning 
suddenly about, caught sight of Theseus, and instantly 
lowered his horribly sharp horns, exactly as a mad bul] 
does when he means to rush against an enemy. At 
the same time, he belched forth a tremendous roar, in 
which there was something like the words of human 
language, but all disjointed and shaken to pieces by 
passing through the gullet of a miserably enraged 
brute. 

1 freseus could only guess what the creature intended 
to say, and that rather by his gestures than his words; 
for the Minotaur’s horns were sharper than his wits, 
and of a great deal more service to him than his 
tongue. But probably this was the sense of what he 
uttered: — 

“ Ah, wretch of a human being I I ’ll stick my 
horns through you, and toss you fifty feet high, and 
eat you up the moment you come down.” 

“ Come on, then, and try it! ” was all that Theseus 
deigned to reply ; for he was far too magnanimous to 
assault his enemy with insolent language. 

Without more words on either side, there ensued 
the most awful fight between Theseus and the Mino¬ 
taur that ever happened beneath the sun or moon. I 
really know not how it might have turned out, if the 
monster, in his first headlong rush against Theseus, 
had not missed him, by a hair’s-breadth, and broken 
one of his horns short off against the stone wall. On 
this mishap, he bellowed so intolerably that a part of 
the labyrinth tumbled down, and all the inhabitants 

von- iy. 16 


242 


THE MINOTAUR 


of Crete mistook the noise for an uncommonly heavy 
thunder-storm. Smarting with the pain, he galloped 
around the open space in so ridiculous a way that 
Theseus laughed at it. long afterwards, though not 
precisely at the moment. After this, the two antago¬ 
nists stood valiantly up to one another, and fought 
sword to horn, for a long while. At last, the Mino¬ 
taur made a run at Theseus, grazed his left side with 
his horn, and flung him down ; and thinking that he 
had stabbed him to the heart, he cut a great caper in 
the air, opened his bull mouth from ear to ear, and 
prepared to snap his head off. But Theseus by this 
time had leaped up, and caught the monster off his 
guard. Fetching a sword-stroke at him with all his 
force, he hit him fair upon the neck, and made his 
bull head skip six yards from his human body, which 
fell down flat upon the ground. 

So now the battle was ended. Immediately the 
moon shone out as brightly as if all the troubles of the 
world, and all the wickedness and the ugliness that 
infest human life, were past and gone forever. And 
Theseus, as he leaned on his sword, taking breath, felt 
another twitch of the silken cord; for all through the 
terrible encounter he had held it fast in his left hand. 
Eager to let Ariadne know of his success, he followed 
the guidance of the thread, and soon found himself at 
the entrance of the labyrinth. 

“ Thou hast slain the monster,” cried Ariadne, 
clasping her hands. 

“ Thanks to thee, dear Ariadne,” answered Theseus, 
“ I return victorious.” 

“ Then,” said Ariadne, “ we must quickly summon 
thy friends, and get them and thyself on board the 
Vessel before dawn. If morning finds thee here, my 
father will avenge the Minotaur,” 


THE MINOTAUR 


243 


To make iny story short, the poor captives were 
awakened, and, hardly knowing whether it was not a 
joyful dream, were told of what Theseus had done, 
and that they must set sail for Athens before day¬ 
break. Hastening down to the vessel, they all clam¬ 
bered on board, except Prince Theseus, who lingered 
behind them, on the strand, holding Ariadne’s hand 
clasped in his own. 

“ Dear maiden,” said he, “ thou wilt surely go with 
us. Thou art too gentle and sweet a child for such an 
iron-hearted father as King Minos. He cares no more 
for thee than a granite rock cares for the little flower 
that grows in one of its crevices. But my father, 
King iEgeus, and my dear mother, iEthra, and all the 
fathers and mothers in Athens, and all the sons and 
daughters too, will love and honor thee as their bene¬ 
factress. Come with us, then ; for King Minos will 
be very angry when he knows what thou hast done.” 

Now, some low-minded people, who pretend to tell 
the story of Theseus and Ariadne, have the face to 
say that this royal and honorable maiden did really 
flee away, under cover of the night, with the young 
stranger whose life she had preserved. They say, too, 
that Prince Theseus (who would have died sooner 
than wrong the meanest creature in the world) un¬ 
gratefully deserted Ariadne, on a solitary island, 
where the vessel touched on its voyage to Athens. 
But, had the noble Theseus heard these falsehoods, 
he would have served their slanderous authors as 
he served the Minotaur ! Here is what Ariadne an¬ 
swered, when the brave Prince of Athens besought 
her to accompany him : — 

“ No, Theseus,” the maiden said, pressing his hand, 
and then drawing back a step or two, “ I cannot go 


244 


THE MINOTAUR 


with you. My father is old, and has nobody but my* 
self to love him. Hard as you think his heart is, it 
would break to lose me. At first King Minos will be 
angry; but he will soon forgive his only child; and, 
by and by, he will rejoice, I know, that no more youths 
and maidens must come from Athens to be devoured 
by the Minotaur. I have saved you, Theseus, as much 
for my father’s sake as for your own. Farewell! 
Heaven bless you! ” 

All this was so true, and so maiden-like, and was 
spoken with so sweet a dignity, that Theseus would 
have blushed to urge her any longer. Nothing re¬ 
mained for him, therefore, but to bid Ariadne an af¬ 
fectionate farewell, and go on board the vessel, and 
set sail. 

In a few moments the white foam was boiling up 
before their prow, as Prince Theseus and his compan¬ 
ions sailed out of the harbor with a whistling breeze 
behind them. Talus, the brazen giant, on his never- 
ceasing sentinel’s march, happened to be approaching 
that part of the coast; and they saw him, by the glim¬ 
mering of the moonbeams on his polished surface, 
while he was yet a great way off. As the figure moved 
like clock-work, however, and could neither hasten his 
enormous strides nor retard them, he arrived at the 
port when they were just beyond the reach of his club. 
Nevertheless, straddling from headland to headland, 
as his custom was, Talus attempted to strike a blow at 
the vessel, and, overreaching himself, tumbled at full 
length into the sea, which splashed high over his gi¬ 
gantic shape, as when an iceberg turns a somerset. 
There he lies yet; and whoever desires to enrich him¬ 
self by means of brass had better go thither with a 
diving-bell, and fish up Talus. 


THE MINOTAUR 


245 


On the homeward voyage, the fourteen youths and 
damsels were in excellent spirits, as you will easily sup¬ 
pose. They spent most of their time in dancing, un¬ 
less when the sidelong breeze made the deck slope too 
much. In due season, they came within sight of the 
coast of Attica, which was their native country. But 
here, I am grieved to tell you, happened a sad misfor¬ 
tune. 

You will remember (what Theseus unfortunately 
forgot) that his father, King .ZEgeus, had enjoined it 
upon him to hoist sunshine sails, instead of black ones, 
in case he should overcome the Minotaur, and return 
victorious. In the joy of their success, however, and 
amidst the sports, dancing, and other merriment, with 
which these young folks wore away the time, they 
never once thought whether their sails were black, 
white, or rainbow colored, and, indeed, left it entirely 
to the mariners whether they had any sails at all. 
Thus the vessel returned, like a raven, with the same 
sable wings that had wafted her away. But poor King 
iEgeus, day after day, infirm as he was, had clambered 
to the summit of a cliff that overhung the sea, and 
there sat watching for Prince Theseus, homeward 
bound ; and no sooner did he behold the fatal black¬ 
ness of the sails, than he concluded that his dear son, 
whom he loved so much, and felt so proud of, had 
been eaten by the Minotaur. He could not bear the 
thought of living any longer; so, first flinging his 
crown and sceptre into the sea, (useless bawbles that 
they were to him now !) King iEgeus merely stooped 
forward, and fell headlong over the cliff, and was 
drowned, poor soul, in the waves that foamed at its 
base ! 

This was melancholy news for Prince Theseus, who. 


246 


THE MINOTAUR 


when he stepped ashore, found himself king of all the 
country, whether he would or no; and such a turn of 
fortune was enough to make any young man feel very 
much out of spirits. However, he sent for his dear 
mother to Athens, and, by taking her advice in mat¬ 
ters of state, became a very excellent monarch, and 
was greatly beloved by his people. 



THE PYGMIES. 


A GEEAT while ago, when the world was full of 
wonders, there lived an earth-born Giant named An- 
tseus, and a million or more of curious little earth-born 
people, who were called Pygmies. This Giant and 
these Pygmies being children of the same mother (that 
is to sqy, our good old Grandmother Earth), were all 
brethren and dwelt together in a very friendly and af¬ 
fectionate manner, far, far off, in the middle of hot 
Africa. The Pygmies were so small, and there were 
so many sandy deserts and such high mountains be¬ 
tween them and the rest of mankind, that nobody 
could get a peep at them oftener than once in a hun¬ 
dred years. As for the Giant, being of a very lofty 
stature, it was easy enough to see him, but safest to 
keep out of his sight. 

Among the Pygmies, I suppose, if one of them grew 
to the height of six or eight inches, he was reckoned 
a prodigiously tall man. It must have been very 
pretty to behold their little cities, with streets two or 
three feet wide, paved with the smallest pebbles, and 
bordered by habitations about as big as a squirrel’s 
cage. The king’s palace attained to the stupendous 
magnitude of Periwinkle’s baby-house, and stood in 
the centre of a spacious square, which could hardly 
have been covered by our hearth-rug. Their principal 
temple, or cathedral, was as lofty as yonder bureau, 
and was looked upon as a wonderfully sublime and 
magnificent edifice. All these structures were built 












248 


THE PYGMIES 


neither of stone nor wood. They were neatly plas¬ 
tered together by the Pygmy workmen, pretty much 
like bird’s-nests, out of straw, feathers, eggshells, and 
other small bits of stuff, with stiff clay instead of mor¬ 
tar ; and when the hot sun had dried them, they were 
just as snug and comfortable as a Pygmy could de¬ 
sire. 

The country round about was conveniently laid out 
in fields, the largest of which was nearly of the same 
extent as one of Sweet Fern’s flower-beds. Here the 
Pygmies used to plant wheat and other kinds of grain, 
which, when it grew up and ripened, overshadowed 
these tiny people, as the pines, and the oaks, and the 
walnut and chestnut - trees overshadow you and me, 
when we walk in our own tracts of woodland. At 
harvest-time, they were forced to go with their little 
axes and cut down the grain, exactly as a wood-cutter 
makes a clearing in the forest; and when a stalk of 
wheat, with its overburdened top, chanced to come 
crashing down upon an unfortunate Pygmy, it was 
apt to be a very sad affair. If it did not smash him 
all to pieces, at least, I am sure, it must have made the 
poor little fellow’s head ache. And oh, my stars! if 
the fathers and mothers were so small, what must 
the children and babies have been? A whole family 
jf them might have been put to bed in a shoe, or have 
crept into an old glove, and played at hide-and-seek 
in its thumb and fingers. You might have hidden a 
year-old baby under a thimble. 

Now these funny Pygmies, as I told you before, had 
a Giant for their neighbor and brother, who was big¬ 
ger, if possible, than they were little. He was so very 
tall that he carried a pine-tree, which was eight feet 
through the but, for a walking-stick. It took a far- 


THE PYGMIES 


249 


sighted Pygmy, I can assure you, to discern his summit 
without the help of a telescope; and sometimes, in 
misty weather, they could not see his upper half, but 
only his long legs, which seemed to be striding about 
by themselves. But at noonday, in a clear atmosphere, 
when the sun shone brightly over him, the Giant 
Antaeus presented a very grand spectacle. There he 
used to stand, a perfect mountain of a man, with his 
great countenance smiling down upon his little broth¬ 
ers, and his one vast eye (which was as big as a cart¬ 
wheel, and placed right in the centre of his forehead) 
giving a friendly wink to the whole nation at once. 

The Pygmies loved to talk with Antaeus ; and fifty 
times a day, one or another of them would turn up his 
head, and shout through the hollow of his fists, “ Hal¬ 
loo, brother Antaeus ! How are you, my good fellow ? ” 
and when the small, distant squeak of their voices 
reached his ear, the Giant would make answer, “ Pretty 
well, brother Pygmy, I thank you,” in a thunderous 
roar that would have shaken down the walls of their 
strongest temple, only that it came from so far aloft. 

It was a happy circumstance that Antaeus was the 
Pygmy people’s friend ; for there was more strength 
in his little finger than in ten million of such bodies 
as theirs. If he had been as ill-natured to them as he 
was to everybody else, he might have beaten down 
their biggest city at one kick, and hardly have known 
that he did it. With the tornado of his breath, he 
could have stripped the roofs from a hundred dwell¬ 
ings, and sent thousands of the inhabitants whirling 
through the air. He might have set his immense foot 
upon a multitude; and when he took it up again, 
there would have been a pitiful sight, to be sure. 
But, being the -son of Mother Earth, as they likewise 


250 


THE PYGMIES 


were, the Giant gave them his brotherly kindness, and 
loved them with as big a love as it was possible to 
feel for creatures so very small. And, on their parts* 
the Pygmies loved Antaeus with as much affection as 
their tiny hearts could hold. He was always ready 
to do them any good offices that lay in his power; as, 
for example, when they wanted a breeze to turn their 
windmills, the Giant would set all the sails a-going 
with the mere natural respiration of his lungs. When 
the sun was too hot, he often sat himself down, and 
let his shadow fall over the kingdom, from one fron¬ 
tier to the other; and as for matters in general, he 
was wise enough to let them alone, and leave the Pyg¬ 
mies to manage their own affairs, — which, after all, 
is about the best thing that great people can do for 
little ones. 

In short, as I said before, Antaeus ioved the Pyg¬ 
mies, and the Pygmies loved Antaeus. The Giant’s 
life being as long as his body was large, while the 
lifetime of a Pygmy was but a span, this friendly in¬ 
tercourse had been going on for innumerable gener¬ 
ations and ages. It was written about in the Pygmy 
histories, and talked about in their ancient traditions. 
The most venerable and white - bearded Pygmy had 
never heard of a time, even in his greatest of grand¬ 
father’s days, when the Giant was not their enormous 
friend. Once, to be sure (as was recorded on an ob¬ 
elisk, three feet high, erected on the place of the ca¬ 
tastrophe), Antaeus sat down upon about five thousand 
Pygmies, who were assembled at a military review. 
But this was one of those unlucky accidents for which 
nobody is to blame; so that the small folks never took 
it to heart, and only requested the Giant to be careful 
forever afterwards to examine the acre of ground 
where he intended to squat himself. 


251 


THE PYGMIES 

It is a very pleasant picture to imagine Antaeus 
standing among the Pygmies, like the spire of the 
tallest cathedral that ever was built, while they ran 
about like pismires at his feet; and to think that, in 
spite of their difference in size, there were affection 
and sympathy between them and him ! Indeed, it has 
always seemed to me that the Giant needed the lit¬ 
tle people more than the Pygmies needed the Giant. 
For, unless they had been his neighbors and well- 
wishers, and, as we may say, his playfellows, Antaeus 
would not have had a single friend in the world. No 
other being like himself had ever been created. No 
creature of his own size had ever talked with him, in 
thunder-like accents, face to face. When he stood 
with his head among the clouds, he was quite alone, 
and had been so for hundreds of years, and would be 
so forever. Even if he had met another Giant, An¬ 
taeus would have fancied the world not big enough 
for two such vast personages, and, instead of being 
friends with him, would have fought him till one of 
the two was killed. But with the Pygmies he was the 
most sportive, and humorous, and merry-hearted, and 
sweet-tempered old Giant that ever washed his face in 
a wet cloud. 

His little friends, like all other small people, had a 
great opinion of their own importance, and used to 
assume quite a patronizing air towards the Giant. 

“ Poor creature ! ” they said one to another. “ He 
has a very dull time of it, all by himself; and we 
ought not to grudge wasting a little of our precious 
time to amuse him. He is not half so bright as we 
are, to be sure ; and, for that reason, he needs us to 
look after his comfort and happiness. Let us be kind 

the old fellow. Why, if Mother Earth had not 


252 THE PYGMIES 

been very kind to ourselves, we might all have been 
Giants too.” 

On all their holidays, the Pygmies had excellent 
sport with Antaeus. He often stretched himself out 
at full length on the ground, where he looked like the 
long ridge of a hill; and it was a good hour's walk, 
no doubt, for a short-legged Pygmy to journey from 
head to foot of the Giant. He would lay down his 
great hand flat on the grass, and challenge the tallest 
of them to clamber upon it, and straddle from finger 
to finger. So fearless were they, that they made 
nothing of creeping in among the folds of his gar¬ 
ments. When his head lay sidewise on the earth, 
they would march boldly up, and peep into the great 
cavern of his mouth, and take it all as a joke (as in¬ 
deed it was meant) when Antaeus gave a sudden snap 
with his jaws, as if he were going to swallow fifty of 
them at once. You would have laughed to see the 
children dodging in and out among his hair, or swing¬ 
ing from his beard. It is impossible to tell half of 
the funny tricks that they played with their huge 
comrade; but I do not know that anything was more 
curious than when a party of boys were seen running 
races on his forehead, to try which of them could get 
first round the circle of his one great eye. It was 
another favorite feat with them to march along the 
bridge of his nose, and jump down upon his upper 
iip. 

If the truth must be told, they were sometimes as 
troublesome to the Giant as a swarm of ants or mos¬ 
quitoes, especially as they had a fondness for mischief, 
and liked to prick his skin with their little swords and 
lances, to see how thick and tough it was. But An¬ 
taeus took it all kindly enough; although, once in a 


THE PYGMIES 253 

tfhile, when he happened to be sleepy, he would grum¬ 
ble out a peevish word or two, like the muttering of a 
tempest, and ask them to have done with their non¬ 
sense. A great deal oftener, however, he watched 
their merriment and gambols until his huge, heavy, 
clumsy wits were completely stirred up by them; and 
then would he roar out such a tremendous volume of 
immeasurable laughter, that the whole nation of Pyg¬ 
mies had to put their hands to their ears, else it would 
certainly have deafened them. 

“ Ho! ho! ho! ” quoth the Giant, shaking his 
mountainous sides. “ What a funny thing it is to be 
little! If I were not Antseus, I should like to be a 
pygmy, just for the joke’s sake.” 

The Pygmies had but one thing to trouble them in 
the world. They were constantly at war with the 
cranes, and had always been so, ever since the long- 
lived giant could remember. From time to time very 
terrible battles had been fought, in which sometimes 
the little men won the victory, and sometimes the 
cranes. According to some historians, the Pygmies 
used to go to the battle, mounted on the backs of goats 
and rams; but such animals as these must have been 
far too big for Pygmies to ride upon; so that, I rather 
suppose, they rode on squirrel-back, or rabbit-back, 
or rat-back, or perhaps got upon hedgehogs, whose 
prickly quills would be very terrible to the enemy. 
However this might be, and whatever creatures the 
Pygmies rode upon, I do not doubt that they made a 
formidable appearance, armed with sword and spear, 
and bow and arrow, blowing their tiny trumpet, and 
shouting their little war-cry. They never failed to 
exhort one another to fight bravely, and recollect that 
the world had its eyes upon them ; although, in simple 


254 


THE PYGMIES 

truth, the only spectator was the Giant Antaeus, with 
his one, great, stupid eye, in the middle of his fore¬ 
head. 

When the two armies joined battle, the cranes 
would rush forward, flapping their wings and stretch¬ 
ing out their necks, and would perhaps snatch up some 
of the Pygmies crosswise in their beaks. Whenever 
this happened, it was truly an awful spectacle to see 
those little men of might kicking and sprawling in the 
air, and at last disappearing down the crane’s long, 
crooked throat, swallowed up alive. A hero, you 
know, must hold himself in readiness for any kind of 
fate ; and doubtless the glory of the thing was a con¬ 
solation to him, even in the crane’s gizzard. If An¬ 
taeus observed that the battle was going hard against 
his little allies, he generally stopped laughing, and ran 
with mile-long strides to their assistance, flourishing 
his club aloft and shouting at the cranes, who quacked 
and croaked, and retreated as fast as they could. 
Then the Pygmy army would march homeward in tri 
umph, attributing the victory entirely to their own 
valor, and to the warlike skill and strategy of whom¬ 
soever happened to be captain general; and for a 
tedious while afterwards, nothing would be heard of 
but grand processions, and public banquets, and bril¬ 
liant illuminations, and shows of waxwork, with like¬ 
nesses of the distinguished officers as small as life. 

In the above-described warfare, if a Pygmy chanced 
to pluck out a crane’s tail-feather, it proved a very 
great feather in his cap. Once or twice, if you will 
believe me, a little man was made chief ruler of the 
nation for no other merit in the world than bringing 
home such a feather. 

But I have now said enough to let you see what a 


THE PYGMIES 


255 


gallant little people these were, and how happily they 
and their forefathers, for nobody knows how many 
generations, had lived with the immeasurable Giant 
Antaeus. In the remaining part of the story, I shall 
tell you of a far more astonishing battle than any that 
was fought between the Pygmies and the cranes. 

One day the mighty Antaeus was lolling at full 
length among his little friends. His pine-tree walk¬ 
ing-stick lay on the ground close by his side. His 
head was in one part of the kingdom, and his feet ex¬ 
tended across the boundaries of another part; and he 
was taking whatever comfort he could get, while the 
Pygmies scrambled over him, and peeped into his cav¬ 
ernous mouth, and played among his hair. Some¬ 
times, for a minute or two, the Giant dropped asleep, 
and snored like the rush of a whirlwind. During one 
of these little bits of slumber, a Pygmy chanced to 
climb upon his shoulder, and took a view around the 
horizon, as from the summit of a hill; and he beheld 
something, a long way off, which made him rub the 
bright specks of his eyes, and look sharper than be¬ 
fore. At first he mistook it for a mountain, and 
wondered how it had grown up so suddenly out of the 
earth. But soon he saw the mountain move. As it 
came nearer and nearer, what should it turn out to be 
but a human shape, not so big as Antaeus, it is true, 
although a very enormous figure, in comparison with 
Pygmies, and a vast deal bigger than the men whom 
we see nowadays. 

When the Pygmy was quite satisfied that his eyes 
had not deceived him, he scampered, as fast as his legs 
would carry him, to the Giant’s ear, and stooping ovef 
its cavity, shouted lustily into it, — 

“Halloo, brother Antaeus! Get up this minute 


256 


THE PYGMIES 


and take your pine-tree walking-stick in your hand, 
Here comes another Giant to have a tussle with you/ 

“ Poh, poh! ” grumbled Antaeus, only half awake, 
“None of your nonsense, my little fellow! Don’t you 
see I’m sleepy. There is not a Giant on earth for 
whom I would take the trouble to get up.” 

But the Pygmy looked again, and now perceived 
that the stranger was coming directly towards the 
prostrate form of Antaeus. With every step he looked 
less like a blue mountain, and more like an immensely 
large man. He was soon so nigh, that there could be 
no possible mistake about the matter. There he was, 
with the sun flaming on his golden hehnet, and flash¬ 
ing from his polished breastplate ; he had a sword by 
his side, and a lion’s skin over his back, and on his 
right shoulder he carried a club, which looked bulkier 
and heavier than the pine-tree walking-stick of An¬ 
taeus. 

By this time, the whole nation of Pygmies had seen 
the new wonder, and a million of them set up a shout, 
all together; so that it really made quite an audible 
squeak. 

“ Get up, Antaeus! Bestir yourself, you lazy old 
Giant! Here comes another Giant, as strong as you 
are, to fight with you.” 

“ Nonsense, nonsense ! ” growled the sleepy Giant. 
“ I ’ll have my nap out, come who may.” 

Still the stranger drew nearer ; and now the Pyg¬ 
mies could plainly discern that, if his stature were less 
lofty than the Giant’s, yet his shoulders were even 
broader. And, in truth, what a pair of shoulders they 
must have been! As I told you, a long while ago, 
they once upheld the sky. The Pygmies, being ten 
times as vivacious as their great numskull of a brother, 


THE PYGMIES 


257 


eould not abide the Giant’s slow movements, and were 
determined to have him on his feet. So they kept 
shouting to him, and even went so far as to prick him 
with their swords. 

“ Get up, get up, get up ! ” they cried. “ Up with 
you, lazy bones ! The strange Giant’s club is bigger 
than your own, his shoulders are the broadest, and we 
think him the stronger of the two.” 

Antaeus could not endure to have it said that any 
mortal was half so mighty as himself. This latter re¬ 
mark of the Pygmies pricked him deeper than their 
swords ; and, sitting up, in rather a sulky humor, he 
gave a gape of several yards wide, rubbed his eye, and 
finally turned his stupid head in the direction whither 
his little friends were eagerly pointing. 

No sooner did he set eye on the stranger than, leap¬ 
ing on his feet, and seizing his walking-stick, he strode 
a mile or two to meet him; all the while brandishing 
the sturdy pine-tree, so that it whistled through the 
air. 

“Who are you?” thundered the Giant. “And 
what do you want in my dominions ? ” 

There was one strange thing about Antaeus, of which 
I have not yet told you, lest, hearing of so many won¬ 
ders all in a lump, you might not believe much more 
than half of them. You are to know, then, that when¬ 
ever this redoubtable Giant touched the ground, either 
with his hand, his foot, or any other part of his body, 
he grew stronger than ever he had been before. The 
Earth, you remember, was his mother, and was very 
fond of him, as being almost the biggest of her chil¬ 
dren ; and so she took this method of keeping him al¬ 
ways in full vigor. Some persons affirm that he grew 
ten times stronger at every touch others say that it was 

TOL. iv. 17 


258 


THE PYGMIES 


only twice as strong. But only think of it! When 
ever Antaeus took a walk, supposing it were but ten 
miles, and that he stepped a hundred yards at a stride, 
you may try to cipher out how much mightier he was, 
on sitting down again, than when he first startedc 
And whenever he flung himself on the earth to take a 
little repose, even if he got up the very next instant, 
he would be as strong as exactly ten just such giants 
as his former self. It was well for the world that 
Antaeus happened to be of a sluggish disposition, and 
liked ease better than exercise; for, if he had frisked 
about like the Pygmies, and touched the earth as often 
as they did, he would long ago have been strong 
enough to pull down the sky about people’s ears. But 
these great lubberly fellows resemble mountains, not 
only in bulk, but in their disinclination to move. 

Any other mortal man, except the very one whom 
Antaeus had now encountered, would have been half 
frightened to death by the Giant’s ferocious aspect 
and terrible voice. But the stranger did not seem at 
all disturbed. He carelessly lifted his club, and bal¬ 
anced it in his hand, measuring Antaeus with his eye 
from head to foot, not as if wonder-smitten at his stat- 
jure, but as if he had seen a great many Giants before, 
and this was by no means the biggest of them. In 
fact, if the Giant had been no bigger than the Pyg¬ 
mies (who stood pricking up their ears, and looking 
and listening to what was going forward), the stranger 
could not have been less afraid of him. 

“ Who are you, I say ? ” roared Antaeus again. 
' 6 What’s your name ? Why do you come hither ? 
Speak, you vagabond, or I ’ll try the thickness of your 
skull with my walking-stick.” 

“ You are a very discourteous Giant ? ” answered the 


THE PYGMIES 


259 


stranger, quietly, “and I shall probably have to teach 
you a little civility, before we part. As for my name, 
it is Hercules. I have come hither because this is my 
most convenient road to the garden of the Hesperides, 
whither I am going to get three of the golden apples 
for King Eurystheus.” 

“ Caitiff, you shall go no farther! ” bellowed An¬ 
taeus, putting on a grimmer look than before ; for he 
had heard of the mighty Hercules, and hated him be¬ 
cause he was said to be so strong. “ Neither shall 
you go back whence you came ! ” 

“ How will you prevent me,” asked Hercules, 
“ from going whither I please ? ” 

“ By hitting you a rap with this pine-tree here,” 
shouted Antaeus, scowling so that he made himself the 
ugliest monster in Africa. “ I am lifty times stronger 
than you; and, now that I stamp my foot upon the 
ground, I am five hundred times stronger ! I am 
ashamed to kill such a puny little dwarf as you seem 
to be. I will make a slave of you, and you shall like¬ 
wise be the slave of my brethren, here, the Pygmies. 
So throw down your club and your other weapons; 
and as for that lion’s skin, I intend to have a pair of 
gloves made of it.” 

“ Come and take it off my shoulders, then,” an¬ 
swered Hercules, lifting his club. 

Then the Giant, grinning with rage, strode tower¬ 
like towards the stranger (ten times strengthened at 
every step), and fetched a monstrous blow at him 
with his pine-tree, which Hercules caught upon his 
club ; and being more skilful than Antaeus, he paid 
him back such a rap upon the sconce, that down tum¬ 
bled the great lumbering man-mountain, flat upon the 
ground. The poor little Pygmies (who really neve? 


260 


THE PYGMIES 


dreamed that anybody in the world was half so strong 
as their brother Antaeus) were a good deal dismayed 
at this. But no sooner was the Giant down, than up 
he bounced again, with tenfold might, and such a furi 
ous visage as was horrible to behold. He aimed an¬ 
other blow at Hercules, but struck awry, being blinded 
with wrath, and only hit his poor, innocent Mother 
Earth, who groaned and trembled at the stroke. His 
pine-tree went so deep into the ground, and stuck there 
so fast, that before Antaeus could get it out, Hercules 
brought down his club across his shoulders with a 
mighty thwack, which made the Giant roar as if all 
sorts of intolerable noises had come screeching and 
rumbling out of his immeasurable lungs in that one 
cry. Away it went, over mountains and valleys, and, 
for aught I know, was heard on the other side of the 
African deserts. 

As for the Pygmies, their capital city was laid in 
ruins by the concussion and vibration of the air ; and, 
though there was uproar enough without their help, 
they all set up a shriek out of three millions of little 
throats, fancying, no doubt, that they swelled the Gi¬ 
ant’s bellow by at least ten times as much. Mean¬ 
while, Antaeus had scrambled upon his feet again, and 
pulled his pine-tree out of the earth; and, all a-flame 
with fury, and more outrageously strong than ever, he 
ran at Hercules, and brought down another blow. 

“ This time, rascal,” shouted he, “ you shall not es¬ 
cape me.” 

But once more Hercules warded off the stroke with 
his club, and the Giant’s pine-tree was shattered into 
a thousand splinters, most of which flew among the 
Pygmies, and did them more mischief than I like to 
think about. Before Antaeus could get out of the 


261 


THE PYGMIES 

way, Hercules let drive again, and gave him another 
knock-down blow, which sent him heels over head, but 
served only to increase his already enormous and in¬ 
sufferable strength. As for his rage, there is no tell¬ 
ing what a fiery furnace it had now got to be. His 
one eye was nothing but a circle of red fkOie. Hav¬ 
ing now no weapons but his fists, he doubled them up 
(each bigger than a hogshead), smote one against the 
other, and danced up and down with absolute frenzy, 
flourishing his immense arms about, as if he meant not 
merely to kill Hercules, but to smash the whole world 
to pieces. 

“ Come on ! ” roared this thundering Giant. “ Let 
me hit you but one box on the ear, and you ’ll never 
have the headache again.” 

Now Hercules (though strong enough, as you al¬ 
ready know, to hold the sky up) began to be sensible 
that he should never win the victory, if he kept on 
knocking Antaeus down ; for, by and by, if he hit him 
such hard blows, the Giant would inevitably, by the 
help of his Mother Earth, become stronger than the 
mighty Hercules himself. So, throwing down his 
club, with which he had fought so many dreadful bat¬ 
tles, the hero stood ready to receive his antagonist 
with naked arms. 

“ Step forward,” cried he. “ Since I’ve broken 
your pine-tree, we ’ll try which is the better man at a 
wrestling-match. ’ ’ 

“ Aha! then I ’ll soon satisfy you,” shouted the 
Giant; for, if there was one thing on which he prided 
himself more than another, it was his skill in wrest¬ 
ling. “ Villain, I ’ll fling you where you can never 
pick yourself up again.” 

On came Antaeus, hopping and capering with the 


262 


THE PYGMIES 


scorching heat of his rage, and getting new vigoi 
wherewith to wreak his passion, every time he hopped. 
But Hercules, you must understand, was wiser than 
this numskull of a Giant, and had thought of a way to 
fight him, — huge, earth-born monster that he was, — 
and to conquer him too, in spite of all that his Mother 
Earth could do for him. Watching his opportunity, 
as the mad Giant made a rush at him, Hercules caught 
him round the middle with both hands, lifted him high 
into the air, and held him aloft overhead. 

Just imagine it, my dear little friends! What a 
spectacle it must have been, to see this monstrous fel¬ 
low sprawling in the air, face downward, kicking out 
his long legs and wriggling his whole vast body, like a 
baby when its father holds it at arm’s-length towards 
the ceiling. 

But the most wonderful thing was, that, as soon as 
Antaeus was fairly off the earth, he began to lose the 
vigor which he had gained by touching it. Hercules 
very soon perceived that his troublesome enemy was 
growing weaker, both because he struggled and kicked 
with less violence, and because the thunder of his big 
voice subsided into a grumble. The truth was, that, 
unless the Giant touched Mother Earth as often as 
once in five minutes, not only his overgrown strength, 
but the very breath of his life, would depart from him. 
Hercules had guessed this secret; and it may be well 
for us all to remember it, in case we should ever have 
to fight a battle with a fellow like Antseus. For these 
earth-born creatures are only difficult to conquer on 
their own ground, but may easily be managed if we 
can contrive to lift them into a loftier and purer re- 
gion. So it proved with the poor Giant, whom I am 
really a little sorry for, notwithstanding his uncivil 
way of treating: strangers who came to visit him. 


THE PYGMIES 263 

When his strength and breath were quite gone, 
Hercules gave his huge body a toss, and flung it about 
a mile off, where it fell heavily, and lay with no more 
motion than a sand-hill. It was too late for the Gi¬ 
ant’s Mother Earth to help him now; and I should 
not wonder if his ponderous bones were lying on the 
same spot to this very day, and were mistaken for 
those of an uncommonly large elephant. 

But, alas me ! What a wailing did the poor little 
Pygmies set up when they saw their enormous brother 
treated in this terrible manner! If Hercules heard 
their shrieks, however, he took no notice, and perhaps 
fancied them only the shrill, plaintive twittering of 
small birds that had been frightened from their nests 
by the uproar of the battle between himself and An¬ 
taeus. Indeed, his thoughts had been so much taken 
up with the Giant, that he had never once looked at 
the Pygmies, nor even knew that there was such a 
funny little nation in the world. And now, as he had 
travelled a good way, and was also rather weary with 
his exertions in the fight, he spread out his lion’s 
skin on the ground, and reclining himself upon it, fell 
fast asleep. 

As soon as the Pygmies saw Hercules preparing for 
a nap, they nodded their little heads at one another, 
and winked with their little eyes. And when his 
deep, regular breathing gave them notice that he was 
asleep, they assembled together in an immense crowd, 
spreading over a space of about twenty-seven feet 
square. One of their most eloquent orators (and a 
valiant warrior enough, besides, though hardly so good 
at any other weapon as he was with his tongue) 
climbed upon a toadstool, and, from that elevated po¬ 
sition, addressed the multitude. His sentiments were 


THE PYGMIES 


264 

pretty much as follows; or, at all events, something 
like this was probably the upshot of his speech : — 

“ Tall Pygmies and mighty little men ! You and 
all of us have seen what a public calamity has been 
brought to pass, and what an insult has here been of¬ 
fered to the majesty of our nation. Yonder lies An¬ 
taeus, our great friend and brother, slain, within oui 
territory, by a miscreant who took him at disadvan¬ 
tage, and fought him (if fighting it can be called) in 
a way that neither man, nor Giant, nor Pygmy ever 
dreamed of fighting until this hour. And, adding a 
grievous contumely to the wrong already done us, the 
miscreant has now fallen asleep as quietly as if noth¬ 
ing were to be dreaded from our wrath ! It behooves 
you, fellow-countrymen, to consider in what aspect we 
shall stand before the world, and what will be the ver¬ 
dict of impartial history, should we suffer these accu¬ 
mulated outrages to go unavenged. 

“ Antaeus was our brother, born of that same be¬ 
loved parent to whom we owe the thews and sinews, as 
well as the courageous hearts, which made him proud 
of our relationship. He was our faithful ally, and fell 
fighting as much for our national rights and immuni¬ 
ties as for his own personal ones. We and our fore¬ 
fathers have dwelt in friendship with him, and held 
affectionate intercourse, as man to man, through im¬ 
memorial generations. You remember how often our 
entire people have reposed in his great shadow, and 
how our little ones have played at hide-and-seek in 
the tangles of his hair, and how his mighty footsteps 
have familiarly gone to and fro among us, and never 
trodden upon any of our toes. And there lies this 
dear brother, — this sweet and amiable friend, — this 
brave and faithful ally, — this virtuous Giant, — this 


THE PYGMIES 


265 


blameless and excellent Antaeus, — dead! Dead 1 
Silent! Powerless ! A mere mountain of clay ! For¬ 
give my tears! Nay, I behold your own ! Were we 
to drown the world with them, could the world blame 
us? 

“ But to resume : Shall we, my countrymen, suffer 
this wicked stranger to depart unharmed, and triumph 
in his treacherous victory, among distant communities 
of the earth ? Shall we not rather compel him to 
leave his bones here on our soil, by the side of our 
slain brother’s bones, so that, while one skeleton shall 
remain as the everlasting monument of our sorrow, 
the other shall endure as long, exhibiting to the whole 
human race a terrible example of Pygmy vengeance ? 
Such is the question. I put it to you in full confi¬ 
dence of a response that shall be worthy of our na¬ 
tional character, and calculated to increase, rather 
than diminish, the glory which our ancestors have 
transmitted to us, and which we ourselves have proudly 
vindicated in our warfare with the cranes.” 

The orator was here interrupted by a burst of irre¬ 
pressible enthusiasm ; every individual Pygmy crying 
out that the national honor must be preserved at all 
hazards. He bowed, and making a gesture for silence, 
wound up his harangue in the following admirable 
manner : — 

“ It only remains for us, then, to decide whether we 
shall carry on the war in our national capacity, — one 
united people against a common enemy, — or whether 
some champion, famous in former fights, shall be se¬ 
lected to defy the slayer of our brother Antaeus to 
single combat. In the latter case, though not un¬ 
conscious that there may be taller men among you, I 
hereby offer myself for that enviable duty. And, be 


266 


THE PYGMIES 


lieve me, dear countrymen, whether I live or die, the 
honor of this great country, and the fame bequeathed 
us by our heroic progenitors, shall suffer no diminu¬ 
tion in my hands. Never, while I can wield this 
sword, of which I now fling away the scabbard, — 
never, never, never, even if the crimson hand that 
slew the great Antaeus shall lay me prostrate, like him, 
on the soil which I give my life to defend.” 

So saying, this valiant Pygmy drew out his weapon 
(which was terrible to behold, being as long as the 
blade of a penknife), and sent the scabbard whirling 
over the heads of the multitude. His speech was fol¬ 
lowed by an uproar of applause, as its patriotism and 
self-devotion unquestionably deserved ; and the shouts 
and clapping of hands would have been greatly pro¬ 
longed had they not been rendered quite inaudible by 
a deep respiration, vulgarly called a snore, from the 
sleeping Hercules. 

It was finally decided that the whole nation of Pyg¬ 
mies should set to work to destroy Hercules ; not, be 
it understood, from any doubt that a single champion 
would be capable of putting him to the sword, but be¬ 
cause he was a public enemy, and all were desirous of 
sharing in the glory of his defeat. There was a de¬ 
bate whether the national honor did not demand that 
a herald should be sent with a trumpet, to stand over 
the ear of Hercules, and, after blowing a blast right 
into it, to defy him to the combat by formal proclama¬ 
tion. But two or three venerable and sagacious Pyg¬ 
mies, well versed in state affairs, gave it as their opin¬ 
ion that war already existed, and that it was their 
rightful privilege to take the enemy by surprise. 
Moreover, if awakened, and allowed to get upon his 
feet, Hercules might happen to do them a mischief 


THE PYGMIES 


267 


before be could be beaten down again. For, as these 
sage counsellors remarked, the stranger’s club was 
really very big, and had rattled like a thunderbolt 
against the skull of Antaeus. So the Pygmies re¬ 
solved to set aside all foolish punctilios, and assail/ 
their antagonist at once. 

Accordingly, all the fighting men of the nation took 
their weapons, and went boldly up to Hercules, who 
still lay fast asleep, little dreaming of the harm which 
the Pygmies meant to do him. A body of twenty 
thousand archers marched in front, with their little 
bows all ready, and the arrows on the string. The 
same number were ordered to clamber upon Hercules, 
some with spades to dig his eyes out, and others with 
bundles of hay, and all manner of rubbish, with which 
they intended to plug up his mouth and nostrils, so 
that he might perish for lack of breath. These last, 
however, could by no means perform their appointed 
duty; inasmuch as the enemy’s breath rushed out of 
his nose in an obstreperous hurricane and whirlwind, 
which blew the Pygmies away as fast as they came 
nigh. It was found necessary, therefore, to hit upon 
some other method of carrying on the war. 

After holding a council, the captains ordered their 
troops to collect sticks, straws, dry weeds, and what-, 
ever combustible stuff they could find, and make a pile 
of it, heaping it high around the head of Hercules. As 
a great many thousand Pygmies were employed in this 
task, they soon brought together several bushels of in¬ 
flammatory matter, and raised so tall a heap, that, 
mounting on its summit, they were quite upon a level 
with the sleeper’s face. The archers, meanwhile, were 
stationed within bow-shot, with orders to let fly at 
Hercules the instant that he stirred. Everything be^ 


THE PYGMIES 


268 

ing in readiness, a torch was applied to the pile, which 
immediately hurst into flames, and soon waxed hot 
enough to roast the enemy, had he but chosen to lie 
still. A Pygmy, you know, though so very small, 
might set the world on fire, just as easily as a Giant 
could; so that this was certainly the very best way of 
dealing with their foe, provided they could have kept 
him quiet while the conflagration was going forward. 

But no sooner did Hercules begin to be scorched, 
than up he started, with his hair in a red blaze. 

“ What’s all this ? ” he cried, bewildered with sleep, 
and staring about him as if he expected to see another 
Giant. 

At that moment the twenty thousand archers 
twanged their bowstrings, and the arrows came whiz¬ 
zing, like so many winged mosquitoes, right into the 
face of Hercules. But I doubt whether more than 
half a dozen of them punctured the skin, which was 
remarkably tough, as you know the skin of a hero has 
good need to be. 

“ Villain ! ” shouted all the Pygmies at once. “ You 
have killed the Giant Antaeus, our great brother, and 
the ally of our nation. We declare bloody war against 
you and will slay you on the spot.” 

Surprised at the shrill piping of so many little 
voices, Hercules, after putting out the conflagration of 
his hair, gazed all round about, but could see nothing. 
At last, however, looking narrowly on the ground, he 
espied the innumerable assemblage of Pygmies at his 
feet. He stooped down, and taking up the nearest 
one between his thumb and finger, set him on the palm 
of his left hand, and held him at a proper distance 
for examination. It chanced to be the very identical 
Pygmy who had spoken from the top of the toadstooL 


THE PYGMIES 269 

and had offered himself as a champion to meet Her 
cules in single combat. 

“ What in the world, my little fellow,” ejaculated 
Hercules, “ may you be ? ” 

“ I am your enemy,” answered the valiant Pygmy, 
in his mightiest squeak. “ You have slain the enon 
mous Antaeus, our brother by the mother’s side, and 
for ages the faithful ally of our illustrious nation. 
We are determined to put you to death; and for my 
own part, I challenge you to instant battle, on equal 
ground.” 

Hercules was so tickled with the Pygmy’s big words 
and warlike gestures, that he burst into a great explo¬ 
sion of laughter, and almost dropped the poor little 
mite of a creature off the palm of his hand, through 
the ecstasy and convulsion of his merriment. 

“ Upon my word,” cried he, “ I thought I had seen 
wonders before to-day, — hydras with nine heads, stags 
with golden horns, six-legged men, three-headed dogs, 
giants with furnaces in their stomachs, and nobody 
knows what besides. But here, on the palm of my 
hand, stands a wonder that outdoes them all! Your 
body, my little friend, is about the size of an ordinary 
man’s finger. Pray, how big may your soul be ? ” 

“ As big as your own ! ” said the Pygmy. 

Hercules was touched with the little man’s daunt¬ 
less courage, and could not help acknowledging such 
a brotherhood with him as one hero feels for another. 

“ My good little people,” said he, making a low obei¬ 
sance to the grand nation, “ not for all the world 
would I do an intentional injury to such brave fellows 
as you! Your hearts seem to me so exceedingly great, 
that, upon my honor, I marvel how your small bodies 
can contain them. I sue for peace, and, as a condi 


270 


THE PYGMIES 


tion of it, will take five strides, and be out of your 
kingdom at the sixth. Good-by. I shall pick my steps 
carefully, for fear of treading upon some fifty of you, 
without knowing it. Ha, ha, ha ! Ho, ho, ho ! For 
once, Hercules acknowledges himself vanquished.” 

Some writers say, that Hercules gathered up the 
whole race of Pygmies in his lion’s skin, and carried 
them home to Greece, for the children of King Eurys- 
theus to play with. But this is a mistake. He left 
them, one and all, within their own territory, where, 
for aught I can tell, their descendants are alive to the 
present day, building their little houses, cultivating 
their little fields, spanking their little children, wag¬ 
ing their little warfare with the cranes, doing their 
little business, whatever it may be, and reading their 
little histories of ancient times. In those histories, 
perhaps, it stands recorded, that, a great many centu¬ 
ries ago, the valiant Pygmies avenged the death of the 
Giant Antaeus by scaring away the mighty Hercules. 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH. 


Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, the three sons of King 
Agenor, and their little sister Europa (who was a very 
beautiful child) were at play together, near the sea¬ 
shore, in their father’s kingdom of Phoenicia. They 
had rambled to some distance from the palace where 
their parents dwelt, and were now in a verdant mead¬ 
ow, on one side of which lay the sea, all sparkling 
and dimpling in the sunshine, and murmuring gently 
against the beach. The three boys were very happy, 
gathering flowers, and twining them into garlands, 
with which they adorned the little Europa. Seated 
on the grass, the child was almost hidden under an 
abundance of buds and blossoms, whence her rosy face 
peeped merrily out, and, as Cadmus said, was the pret¬ 
tiest of all the flowers. 

Just then, there came a splendid butterfly, fluttering 
along the meadow; and Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix 
set off in pursuit of it, crying out that it was a flower 
with wings. Europa, who was a little wearied with 
playing all day long, did not chase the butterfly with 
her brothers, but sat still where they had left her, and 
closed her eyes. For a while, she listened to the pleas¬ 
ant murmur of the sea, which was like a voice say¬ 
ing “ Hush! ” and bidding her go to sleep. But the 
pretty child, if she slept at all, could not have slept 
more than a moment, when she heard something tram¬ 
ple on the grass, not far from her, and peeping out 
from the heap of flowers, beheld a snow-white bull. 






272 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

And whence could this bull have come ? Europa 
and her brothers had been a long time playing in the 
meadow, and had seen no cattle, nor other living thing, 
either there or on the neighboring hills. 

“ Brother Cadmus ! ” cried Europa, starting up out 
of the midst of the roses and lilies. “ Phoenix ! Cilix J 
Where are you all ? Help! Help ! Come and drive 
away this bull! ” 

But her brothers were too far off to hear ; especially 
as the fright took away Europa’s voice, and hindered 
her from calling very loudly. So there she stood, with 
her pretty mouth wide open, as pale as the white lilies 
that were twisted among the other flowers in her gar¬ 
lands. 

Nevertheless, it was the suddenness with which she 
had perceived the bull, rather than anything frightful 
in his appearance, that caused Europa so much alarm. 
On looking at him more attentively, she began to see 
that he was a beautiful animal, and even fancied a 
particularly amiable expression in his face. As for 
his breath, — the breath of cattle, you know, is always 
sweet, — it was as fragrant as if he had been grazing 
on no other food than rosebuds, or, at least, the most 
delicate of clover-blossoms. Never before did a bull 
have such bright and tender eyes, and such smooth 
horns of ivory, as this one. And the bull ran little 
races, and capered sportively around the child ; so that 
she quite forgot how big and strong he was, and, from 
the gentleness and playfulness of his actions, soon 
came to consider him as innocent a creature as a pet 
lamb. 

Thus, frightened as she at first was, you might by 
and by have seen Europa stroking the bull’s fore* 
head with her small white hand, and taking the gar 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 273 

lands off her own head to hang them on his neck and 
ivory horns. Then she pulled up some blades of grass, 
and he ate them out of her hand, not as if he were 
hungry, but because he wanted to be friends with 
the child, and took pleasure in eating what she had 
touched. Well, my stars ! was there ever such a gen¬ 
tle, sweet, pretty, and amiable creature as this bull, 
and ever such a nice playmate for a little girl ? 

When the animal saw (for the bull had so much in¬ 
telligence that it is really wonderful to think of), when 
he saw that Europa was no longer afraid of him, he 
grew overjoyed, and could hardly contain himself for 
delight. He frisked about the meadow, now here, now 
there, making sprightly leaps, with as little effort as a 
bird expends in hopping from twig to twig. Indeed, 
Ills motion was as light as if he were flying through 
the air, and his hoofs seemed hardly to leave their 
print in the grassy soil over which he trod. With his 
spotless hue, he resembled a snow-drift, wafted along 
by the wind. Once he galloped so far away that Eu¬ 
ropa feared lest she might never see him again; so, 
setting up her childish voice, she called him back. 

“ Come back, pretty creature ! ” she cried. “ Here 
is a nice clover-blossom.” 

And then it was delightful to witness the gratitude 
jf this amiable bull, and how he was so full of joy and 
thankfulness that he capered higher than ever. He 
came running, and bowed his head before Europa, as 
if he knew her to be a king’s daughter, or else recog¬ 
nized the important truth that a little girl is every¬ 
body’s queen. And not only did the bull bend his 
neck, he absolutely knelt down at her feet, and made 
sach intelligent nods, and other inviting gestures, that 

yol. IV, JL8 


274 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

Europa understood what he meant just as well as if he 
had put it in so many words. 

“ Come, dear child,” was what he wanted to say, 
“ let me give you a ride on my hack.” 

At the first thought of such a thing, Europa drew 
back. But then she considered in her wise little head 
that there could be no possible harm in taking just 
one gallop on the back of this docile and friendly ani 
mal, who would certainly set her down the very in 
stant she desired it. And how it would surprise hei 
brothers to see her riding across the green meadow ! 
And what merry times they might have, either taking 
turns for a gallop, or clambering on the gentle crea¬ 
ture, all four children together, and careering round 
the field with shouts of laughter that would be heard 
as far off as King Agenor’s palace ! 

“ I think I will do it,” said the child to herself. 

And, indeed, why not ? She cast a glance around, 
and caught a glimpse of Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, 
who were still in pursuit of the butterfly, almost at the 
other end of the meadow. It would be the quickest 
way of rejoining them, to get upon the white bull’s 
back. She came a step nearer to him, therefore ; and 
— sociable creature that he was — he showed so much 
joy at this mark of her confidence, that the child could 
not find it in her heart to hesitate any longer. Mak¬ 
ing one bound (for this little princess was as active 
as a squirrel), there sat Europa on the beautiful bull, 
holding an ivory horn in each hand, lest she should 
fall off. 

“ Softly, pretty bull, softly ! ” she said, rather 
frightened at what she had done. “ Do not gallop 
too fast.” 

Having got the child on his back, the animal gave 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 275 

a leap into the air, and came down so like a feather 
that Europa did not know when his hoofs touched the 
ground. He then began a race to that part of the 
flowery plain where her three brothers were, and 
where they had just caught tlieir splendid butterfly. 
Europa screamed with delight; and Phcenix, Cilix, 
and Cadmus stood gaping at the spectacle of their sis¬ 
ter mounted on a white bull, not knowing whether to 
be frightened or to wish the same good luck for them¬ 
selves. The gentle and innocent creature (for who 
could possibly doubt that he was so?) pranced round 
among the children as sportively as a kitten. Europa 
all the while looked down upon her brothers, nodding 
and laughing, but yet with a sort of stateliness in her 
rosy little face. As the bull wheeled about to take 
another gallop across the meadow, the child waved her 
hand, and said, “ Good-by,’* playfully pretending that 
she was now bound on a distant journey, and might 
not see her brothers again for nobody could tell how 
long. 

“Good-by,” shouted Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, 
all in one breath. 

But, together with her enjoyment of the sport, 
there was still a little remnant of fear in the child’s 
heart; so that her last look at the three boys was a 
troubled one, and made them feel as if their dear sis¬ 
ter were really leaving them forever. And what do 
you think the snowy bull did next ? Why, he set off, 
as swift as the wind, straight down to the sea-shore, 
scampered across the sand, took an airy leap, and 
plunged right in among the foaming billows. The 
white spray rose in a shower over him and little Eu¬ 
ropa, and fell spattering down upon the water. 

Then what a scream of terror did the poor child 


276 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

send forth! The three brothers screamed manfully, 
likewise, and ran to the shore as fast as their legs 
would carry them, with Cadmus at their head. But 
it was too late. When they reached the margin of 
the sand, the treacherous animal was already far away 
in the wide blue sea, with only his snowy head and 
tail emerging, and poor little Europa between them, 
stretching out one hand towards her dear brothers, 
while she grasped the bull’s ivory horn with the other. 
And there stood Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, gazing 
at this sad spectacle, through their tears, until they 
could no longer distinguish the bull’s snowyliead from 
the white-capped billows that seemed to boil up out of 
the sea’s depths around him. Nothing more was ever 
seen of the white bull, — nothing more of the beauti¬ 
ful child. 

This was a mournful story, as you may well think, 
for the three boys to carry home to their parents. 
King Agenor, their father, was the ruler of the whole 
country; but he loved his little daughter Europa bet¬ 
ter than his kingdom, or than all his other children, 
or than anything else in the world. Therefore, when 
Cadmus and his two brothers came crying home, and 
told him how that a white bull had carried off their 
sister, and swam with her over the sea, the king was 
quite beside himself with grief and rage. Although 
it was now twilight, and fast growing dark, he bade 
them set out instantly in search of her. 

“Never shall you see my face again,” he cried, 
“ unless you bring me back my little Europa, to glad¬ 
den me with her smiles and her pretty ways. Begone, 
and enter my presence no more, till you come leading 
her by the hand.” 

As King Agenor said this, his eyes flashed fire (for 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 277 

tie was a very passionate king), and he looked so ter¬ 
ribly angry that the poor boys did not even venture to 
ask for their suppers, but slunk away out of the pal¬ 
ace, and only paused on the steps a moment to consult 
whither they should go first. While they were stand¬ 
ing there, all in dismay, their mother, Queen Tele- 
phassa (who happened not to be by when they told 
the story to the king), came hurrying after them, and' 
said that she too would go in quest of her daughter. 

“ Oh no, mother ! ” cried the boys. “ The night is 
dark, and there is no knowing what troubles and perils 
we may meet with.” 

“ Alas! my dear children,” answered poor Queen 
Telephassa, weeping bitterly, “that is only another 
reason why I should go with you. If I should lose 
you, too, as well as my little Europa, what would be¬ 
come of me ? ” 

“ And let me go likewise! ” said their playfellow 
Thasus, who came running to join them. 

Thasus was the son of a seafaring person in the 
neighborhood; he had been brought up with the 
young princes, and was their intimate friend, and 
loved Europa very much; so they consented that he 
should accompany them. The whole party, there¬ 
fore, set forth together; Cadmus, Phoenix, Cilix, and 
Thasus clustered round Queen Telephassa, grasping 
her skirts, and begging her to lean upon their shoul¬ 
ders whenever she felt weary. In this manner they 
went down the palace steps, and began a journey 
which turned out to be a great deal longer than they 
dreamed of. The last that they saw of King Agenor, 
he came to the door, with a servant holding a torch 
beside him, and called after them into the gathering 
darkness: — 


278 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

“ Remember! Never ascend these steps again with 
out the child! ” 

“Never! ” sobbed Queen Telephassa; and the three 
brothers and Thasus answered, “ Never! Never! 
Never! Never!” 

And they kept their word. Year after year King 
Agenor sat in the solitude of his beautiful palace, lis¬ 
tening in vain for their returning footsteps, hoping to 
hear the familiar voice of the queen, and the cheerful 
talk of his sons and their playfellow Thasus, entering 
the door together, and the sweet, childish accents of 
little Europa in the midst of them. But so long a 
time went by, that, at last, if they had really come, 
the king would not have known that this was the voice 
of Telephassa, and these the younger voices that used 
to make such joyful echoes when the children were 
playing about the palace. We must now leave King 
Agenor to sit on his throne, and must go along with 
Queen Telephassa and her four youthful companions. 

They went on and on, and travelled a long way, and 
passed over mountains and rivers, and sailed over seas. 
Here, and there, and everywhere, they made continual 
inquiry if any person could tell them what had become 
of Europa. The rustic people, of whom they asked 
this question, paused a little while from their labors 
in the field, and looked very much surprised. They 
thought it strange to behold a woman in the garb of a 
queen (for Telephassa, in her haste, had forgotten to 
take off her crown and her royal robes), roaming 
about the country, with four lads around her, on such 
an errand as this seemed to be. But nobody could 
give them any tidings of Europa; nobody had seen a 
little girl dressed like a princess, and mounted on a 
snow-white bull, which galloped as swiftly as the windL 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 279 

I cannot tell you how long Queen Telephassa, and 
Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, her three sons, and 
Thasus, their playfellow, went wandering along the 
highways and bypaths, or through the pathless wilder¬ 
nesses of the earth, in this manner. But certain it is, 
that, before they reached any place of rest, their splen¬ 
did garments were quite worn out. They all looked 
very much travel-stained, and would have had the dust 
of many countries on their shoes, if the streams, 
through which they waded, had not washed it all 
away. When they had been gone a year, Telephassa 
threw away her crown, because it chafed her forehead. 

“ It has given me many a headache,” said the poor 
queen, “ and it cannot cure my heartache.” 

As fast as their princely robes got torn and tat¬ 
tered, they exchanged them for such mean attire as 
ordinary people wore. By and by they came to have 
a wild and homeless aspect; so that you would much 
sooner have taken them for a gypsy family than a 
queen and three princes, and a young nobleman, who 
had once a palace for their home, and a train of ser¬ 
vants to do their bidding. The four boys grew up 
to be tall young men, with sunburnt faces. Each of 
them girded on a sword, to defend themselves against 
the perils of the way. When the husbandmen, at 
whose farm-houses they sought hospitality, needed 
their assistance in the harvest-field, they gave it wil¬ 
lingly ; and Queen Telephassa (who had done no work 
in her palace, save to braid silk threads with golden 
ones) came behind them to bind the sheaves. If pay¬ 
ment was offered, they shook their heads, and only 
asked for tidings of Europa. 

“ There are bulls enough in my pasture,” the old 
farmers would reply; “ but I never heard of one like 


280 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

this you tell me of. A snow-white bull with a little 
princess on his back! Ho! ho! I ask your pardon, 
good folks; but there never was such a sight seen 
hereabouts.” 

At last, when his upper lip began to have the down 
on it, Phoenix grew weary of rambling hither and 
thither to no purpose. So, one day, when they hap¬ 
pened to be passing through a pleasant and solitary 
tract of country, he sat himself down on a heap of 
moss. 

“ I can go no farther,” said Phoenix. “ It is a mere 
foolish waste of life, to spend it, as we do, in always 
wandering up and down, and never coming to any 
home at nightfall. Our sister is lost, and never will 
be found. She probably perished in the sea ; or, to 
whatever shore the white bull may have carried her, 
it is now so many years ago, that there would be nei¬ 
ther love nor acquaintance between us should we meet 
again. My father has forbidden us to return to his 
palace; so I shall build me a hut of branches, and 
dwell here.” 

“Well, son Phoenix,” said Telephassa, sorrowfully, 
“ you have grown to be a man, and must do as you 
judge best. But, for my part, I will still go in quest 
of my poor child.” 

“ And we three will go along with you! ” cried Cad¬ 
mus and Cilix, and their faithful friend Thasus. 

But, before setting out, they all helped Phoenix to 
build a habitation. When completed, it was a sweet 
rural bower, roofed overhead with an arch of living 
boughs. Inside there were two pleasant rooms, one 
of which had a soft heap of moss for a bed, while the 
other was furnished with a rustic seat or two, curiously 
fashioned out of the crooked roots of trees. So com- 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 281 

for table and homelike did it seem, that Telephasss 
and her three companions could not help sighing, to 
think that they must still roam about the world, in¬ 
stead of spending the remainder of their lives in some 
such cheerful abode as they had here built for Phoenix. 
But, when they bade him farewell, Phoenix shed tears, 
and probably regretted that he was no longer to keep 
them company. 

However, he had fixed upon an admirable place to 
dwell in. And by and by there came other people, 
who chanced to have no homes; and, seeing how pleas¬ 
ant a spot it was, they built themselves huts in the 
neighborhood of Phoenix’s habitation. Thus, before 
many years went by, a city had grown up there, in the 
centre of which was seen a stately palace of marble, 
wherein dwelt Phoenix, clothed in a purple robe, and 
wearing a golden crown upon his head. For the inhab¬ 
itants of the new city, finding that he had royal blood 
in his veins, had chosen him to be their king. The 
very first decree of state which King Phoenix issued 
was, that if a maiden happened to arrive in the king¬ 
dom, mounted on a snow-white bull, and calling her¬ 
self Europa, his subjects should treat her with the 
greatest kindness and respect, and immediately bring 
her to the palace. You may see, by this, that Phoe¬ 
nix’s conscience never quite ceased to trouble him, for 
giving up the quest of his dear sister, and sitting him¬ 
self down to be comfortable, while his mother and her 
companions went onward. 

But often and often, at the close of a weary day’s 
journey, did Telephassa and Cadmus, Cilix and Tha- 
sus, remember the pleasant spot in which they had 
left Phoenix. It was a sorrowful prospect for these 
wanderersj that on the morrow they must again set 


282 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

forth, and that, after many nightfalls, they would per 
haps be no nearer the close of their toilsome pilgrim¬ 
age than now. These thoughts made them all melan¬ 
choly at times, but appeared to torment Cilix more 
than the rest of the party. At length, one morning, 
when they were taking their staffs in hand to set out, 
he thus addressed them: — 

“ My dear mother, and you good brother Cadmus, 
and my friend Tliasus, methinks we are like people 
in a dream. There is no substance in the life which 
we are leading. It is such a dreary length of time 
since the white bull carried off my sister Europa, that 
I have quite forgotten how she looked, and the tones 
of her voice, and, indeed, almost doubt whether suck 
a little girl ever lived in the world. And whether she 
once lived or no, I am convinced that she no longer 
survives, and that therefore it is the merest folly to 
waste our own lives and happiness in seeking her. 
Were we to find her, she would now be a woman 
grown, and would look upon us all as strangers. So, 
to tell you the truth, I have resolved to take up my 
abode here; and I entreat you, mother, brother, and 
friend, to follow my example.” 

“Not I, for one,” said Telephassa; although the 
poor queen, firmly as she spoke, was so travel-worn 
that she could hardly put her foot to the ground, —* 
not I, for one! In the depths of my heart, little 
Europa is still the rosy child who ran to gather flowers 
so many years ago. She has not grown to woman¬ 
hood, nor forgotten me. At noon, at night, journey¬ 
ing onward, sitting down to rest, her childish voice is 
always in my ears, calling, ‘ Mother! mother! ’ Stop 
here who may, there is no repose for me.” 

“Nor for me,” said Cadmus, “while my dear mother 
pleases to go onward.” 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 283 

And the faithful Thasus, too, was resolved to hear 
them company. They remained with Cilix a few days, 
however, and helped him to build a rustic bower, re* 
sembling the one which they had formerly built for 
Phoenix. 

When they were bidding him farewell, Cilix burst 
into tears, and told his mother that it seemed just as 
melancholy a dream to stay there, in solitude, as to go 
onward. If she really believed that they would ever 
find Europa, he was willing to continue the search with 
them, even now. But Telephassa bade him remain 
there, and be happy, if his own heart would let him. 
So the pilgrims took their leave of him, and departed, 
and were hardly out of sight before some other wan¬ 
dering people came along that way, and saw Cilix’s 
habitation, and were greatly delighted with the ap¬ 
pearance of the place. There being abundance of un¬ 
occupied ground in the neighborhood, these strangers 
built huts for themselves, and were soon joined by a 
multitude of new settlers, who quickly formed a city. 
In the middle of it was seen a magnificent palace of 
colored marble, on the balcony of which, every noon¬ 
tide, appeared Cilix, in a long purple robe, and with a 
jewelled crown upon his head; for the inhabitants, 
when they found out that he was a king’s son, had con¬ 
sidered him the fittest of all men to be a king him¬ 
self. 

One of the first acts of King Cilix’s government 
was to send out an expedition, consisting of a grave 
ambassador and an escort of bold and hardy young 
men, with orders to visit the principal kingdoms of 
the earth, and inquire whether a young maiden had 
passed through those regions, galloping swiftly on a 
White bull. It is, therefore, plain to my mind, that 


284 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


Cilix secretly blamed himself for giving up the searct 
for Europa, as long as he was able to put one foot be- 
fore the other. 

As for Telephassa, and Cadmus, and the good Tha- 
sus, it grieves me to think of them, still keeping up 
that weary pilgrimage. The two young men did their 
best for the poor queen, helping her over the rough 
places, often carrying her across rivulets in their faith¬ 
ful arms, and seeking to shelter her at nightfall, even 
when they themselves lay on the ground. Sad, sad it 
was to hear them asking of every passer-by if he had 
seen Europa, so long after the white bull had carried 
her away. But, though the gray years thrust them¬ 
selves between, and made the child’s figure dim in 
their remembrance, neither of these true-hearted three 
ever dreamed of giving up the search. 

One morning, however, poor Thasus found that he 
had sprained his ankle, and could not possibly go a 
step farther. 

“ After a few days, to be sure,” said he, mournfully, 
“ I might make shift to hobble along with a stick. 
But that would only delay you, and perhaps hinder 
you from finding dear little Europa, after all your 
pains and trouble. Do you go forward, therefore, my 
beloved companions, and leave me to follow as I may.” 

“ Thou hast been a true friend, dear Thasus,” said 
Queen Telephassa, kissing his forehead. “ Being nei¬ 
ther my son, nor the brother of our lost Europa, thou 
hast shown thyself truer to me and her than Phoenix 
and Cilix did, whom we have left behind us. With¬ 
out thy loving help, and that of my son Cadmus, my 
limbs could not have borne me half so far as this. 
Now, take thy rest, and be at peace. For — and it is 
the first time I have owned it to myself — I begin to 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 285 

question whether we shall ever find my beloved daugh¬ 
ter in this world.” 

Saying this, the poor queen shed tears, because it 
was a grievous trial to the mother’s heart to confess 
that her hopes were growing faint. From that day 
forward, Cadmus noticed that she never travelled with 
the same alacrity of spirit that had heretofore sup¬ 
ported her. Her weight was heavier upon his arm. 

Before setting out, Cadmus helped Thasus build a 
bower; while Telephassa, being too infirm to give any 
great assistance, advised them how to fit it up and fur¬ 
nish it, so that it might be as comfortable as a hut of 
branches could. Thasus, however, did not spend all 
his days in this green bower. For it happened to him, 
as to Phoenix and Cilix, that other homeless people 
visited the spot and liked it, and built themselves hab¬ 
itations in the neighborhood. So here, in the course 
of a few years, was another thriving city with a red 
freestone palace in the centre of it, where Thasus sat 
upon a throne, doing justice to the people, with a pur¬ 
ple robe over his shoulders, a sceptre in his hand, and 
a crown upon his head. The inhabitants had made 
him king, not for the sake of any royal blood (for 
none was in his veins), but because Thasus was an up¬ 
right, true-hearted, and courageous man, and therefore 
fit to rule. 

But, when the affairs of his kingdom were all set¬ 
tled, King Thasus laid aside his purple robe, and 
crown, and sceptre, and bade his worthiest subject dis¬ 
tribute justice to the people in his stead. Then, grasp¬ 
ing the pilgrim’s staff that had supported him so long, 
he set forth again, hoping still to discover some hoof- 
mark of the snow-white bull, some trace of the van¬ 
ished child. He returned, after a lengthened absence. 


286 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


and sat down wearily upon liis throne. To his latest 
hour, nevertheless, King Tliasus showed his truo> 
hearted remembrance of Europa, by ordering that a 
fire should always be kept burning in his palace, and 
a bath steaming hot, and food ready to be served up, 
and a bed with snow-white sheets, in case the maiden 
should arrive, and require immediate refreshment. 
And though Europa never came, the good Thasus had 
the blessings of many a poor traveller, who profited by 
the food and lodging which were meant for the little 
playmate of the king’s boyhood. 

Telephassa and Cadmus were now pursuing their 
weary way, with no companion but each other. The 
queen leaned heavily upon her son’s arm, and could 
walk only a few miles a day. But for all her weak¬ 
ness and weariness, she would not be persuaded to 
give up the search. It was enough to bring tears into 
the eyes of bearded men to hear the melancholy tone 
with which she inquired of every stranger whether he 
could tell her any news of the lost child. 

“ Have you seen a little girl — no, no, I mean a 
young maiden of full growth — passing by this way, 
mounted on a snow-white bull, which gallops as swiftly 
as the wind ? ” 

“We have seen no such wondrous sight,” the peo¬ 
ple would reply ; and very often, taking Cadmus aside, 
they whispered to him, “ Is this stately and sad-look- 
ing woman your mother? Surely she is not in her 
right mind; and you ought to take her home, and 
make her comfortable, and do your best to get this 
dream out of her fancy.” 

“ It is no dream,” said Cadmus. “ Everything else 
is a dream, save that.” 

But, one day, Talephassa seemed feebler than usual, 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 287 

and leaned almost her whole weight on the arm of Cad¬ 
mus, and walked more slowly than ever before. At 
last they reached a solitary spot, where she told her 
son that she must needs lie down, and take a good, 
long rest. 

“ A good, long rest! ” she repeated, looking Cad¬ 
mus tenderly in the face, — “a good, long rest, thou 
dearest one ! ” 

“ As long as you please, dear mother,” answered 
Cadmus. 

Telephassa bade him sit down on the turf beside 
her, and then she took his hand. 

“ My son,” said she, fixing her dim eyes most lov¬ 
ingly upon him, “ this rest that I speak of will be very 
long indeed! You must not wait till it is finished. 
Dear Cadmus, you do not comprehend me. You must 
make a grave here, and lay your mother’s weary frame 
into it. My pilgrimage is over.” 

Cadmus burst into tears, and, for a long time, re¬ 
fused to believe that his dear mother was now to be 
taken from him. But Telephassa reasoned with him, 
and kissed him, and at length made him discern that 
it was better for her spirit to pass away out of the toil, 
the weariness, the grief, and disappointment which had 
burdened her on earth, ever since the child was lost. 
He therefore repressed his sorrow, and listened to her 
last words. 

“ Dearest Cadmus,” said she, “ thou hast been the 
truest son that ever mother had, and faithful to the 
very last. Who else would have borne with my in¬ 
firmities as thou hast I It is owing to thy care, thou 
tenderest child, that my grave was not dug long years 
ago, in some valley, or on some hill-side, that lies far, 
far behind us. It is enough. Thou shalt wander no 


288 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


more on this hopeless search. But when thou hast laid 
thy mother in the earth, then go, my son, to Delphi, 
and inquire of the oracle what thou shalt do next.” 

“ O mother, mother,” cried Cadmus, “ couldst thou 
but have seen my sister before this hour! ” 

“ It matters little now,” answered Telephassa, and 
there was a smile upon her face. “ I go now to the 
better world, and, sooner or later, shall find my daugh 
ter there.” 

I will not sadden you, my little hearers, with telling 
how Telephassa died and was buried, but will only 
say, that her dying smile grew brighter, instead of 
vanishing from her dead face ; so that Cadmus felt 
convinced that, at her very first step into the better 
world, she had caught Europa in her arms. He planted 
some flowers on his mother’s grave, and left them to 
grow there, and make the place beautiful, when he 
should be far away. 

After performing this last sorrowful duty, he set 
forth alone, and took the road towards the famous 
oracle of Delphi, as Telephassa had advised him. On 
his way thither, he still inquired of most people whom 
he met whether they had seen Europa; for, to say the 
truth, Cadmus had grown so accustomed to ask the 
question, that it came to his lips as readily as a re¬ 
mark about the weather. He received various an¬ 
swers. Some told him one thing, and some another. 
Among the rest, a mariner affirmed, that, many years 
before, in a distant country, he had heard a rumor 
about a white bull, which came swimming across the 
sea with a child on his back, dressed up in flowers 
that were blighted by the sea-water. He did not know 
what had become of the child or the bull; and Cad- 
mus suspected, indeed, by a queer twinkle in the mari- 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 289 

aer’s eyes, that lie was putting a joke upon him, and 
had never really heard anything about the matter. 

Poor Cadmus found it more wearisome to travel 
alone than to bear all his dear mother’s weight while 
she had kept him company. His heart, you will un¬ 
derstand, was now so heavy that it seemed impossible, 
sometimes, to carry it any farther. But his limbs 
were strong and active, and well accustomed to ex¬ 
ercise. He walked swiftly along, thinking of King 
Agenor and Queen Telephassa, and his brothers, and 
the friendly Thasus, all of whom he had left behind 
him, at one point of his pilgrimage or another, and 
never expected to see them any more. Full of these 
remembrances, he came within sight of a lofty moun¬ 
tain, which the people thereabouts told him was called 
Parnassus. On the slope of Mount Parnassus was the 
famous Delphi, whither Cadmus was going. 

This Delphi was supposed to be the very midmost 
spot of the whole world. The place of the oracle was 
a certain cavity in the mountain - side, over which, 
when Cadmus came thither, he found a rude bower of 
branches. It reminded him of those which he had 
helped to build for Phoenix and Cilix, and afterwards 
for Thasus. In later times, when multitudes of people 
came from great distances to put questions to the ora¬ 
cle, a spacious temple of marble was erected over the 
spot. But in the days of Cadmus, as I have told you, 
there was only this rustic bower, with its abundance 
of green foliage, and a tuft of shrubbery, that ran wild 
over the mysterious hole in the hill-side. 

When Cadmus had thrust a passage through the 
tangled boughs, and made his way into the bower, he 
did not at first discern the half-hidden cavity. But 
soon he felt a cold stream of air rushing out of it, with 
19 


VOL- IV- 


290 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


so much force that it shook the ringlets on his cheek. 
Pulling away the shrubbery which clustered over the 
hole, he bent forward, and spoke in a distinct but rev¬ 
erential tone, as if addressing some unseen personage 
inside of the mountain. 

“ Sacred oracle of Delphi,” said he, “ whither shall 
I go next in quest of my dear sister Europa ? ” 

There was at first a deep silence, and then a rushing 
sound, or a noise like a long sigh, proceeding out of 
the interior of the earth. This cavity, you must know, 
was looked upon as a sort of fountain of truth, which 
sometimes gushed out in audible words; although, for 
the most part, these words were such a riddle that 
they might just as well have stayed at the bottom of 
the hole. But Cadmus was more fortunate than many 
others who went to Delphi in search of truth. By and 
by, the rushing noise began to sound like articulate 
language. It repeated, over and over again, the fol¬ 
lowing sentence, which, after all, was so like the vague 
whistle of a blast of air, that Cadmus really did not 
quite know whether it meant anything or not: — 

u Seek her no more! Seek her no more ! Seek her 
no more! ” 

“ What, then, shall I do ? ” asked Cadmus. 

For, ever since he was a child, you know, it had 
been the great object of his life to find his sister. 
From the very hour that he left following the butterfly 
in the meadow, near his father’s palace, he had done 
his best to follow Europa, over land and sea. And 
now, if he must give up the search, he seemed to have 
no more business in the world. 

But again the sighing gust of air grew into some¬ 
thing like a hoarse voice. 

“Follow the cow! ” it said. “Follow the cow! 
Follow the cow ’ ” 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 291 

And when these words had been repeated until Cad¬ 
mus was tired of hearing them (especially as he could 
not imagine what cow it was, or why he was to follow 
her), the gusty hole gave vent to another sentence. 

“ Where the stray cow lies down, there is your 
home.” 

These words were pronounced but a single time, and 
died away into a whisper before Cadmus was fully sat¬ 
isfied that he had caught the meaning. He put other 
questions, but received no answer; only the gust of 
wind sighed continually out of the cavity, and blew 
the withered leaves rustling along the ground before 
it. 

“ Did there really come any words out of the hole ? ” 
thought Cadmus ; “or have I been dreaming all this 
while ? ” 

He turned away from the oracle, and thought him¬ 
self no wiser than when he came thither. Caring little 
what might happen to him, he took the first path that 
offered itself, and went along at a sluggish pace ; for, 
having no object in view, nor any reason to go one 
way more than another, it would certainly have been 
foolish to make haste. Whenever he met anybody, 
the old question was at his tongue’s end : — 

“ Have you seen a beautiful maiden, dressed like a 
king’s daughter, and mounted on a snow-white bull, 
that gallops as swiftly as the wind ? ” 

But, remembering what the oracle had said, he only 
half uttered the words, and then mumbled the rest in¬ 
distinctly ; and from his confusion, people must have 
imagined that this handsome young man had lost his 
wits. 

I know not how far Cadmus had gone, nor could he 
himself have told you, when, at no great distance be- 


292 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

fore him, he beheld a brindled cow. She was lying 
down by the wayside, and quietly chewing her cud; 
nor did she take any notice of the young man until he 
had approached pretty nigh. Then, getting leisurely 
upon her feet, and giving her head a gentle toss, she 
began to move along at a moderate pace, often paus¬ 
ing just long enough to crop a mouthful of grass. 
Cadmus loitered behind, whistling idly to himself, and 
scarcely noticing the cow ; until the thought occurred 
to him, whether this could possibly be the animal 
which, according to the oracle’s response, was to serve 
him for a guide. But he smiled at himself for fancy¬ 
ing such a thing. He could not seriously think that 
this was the cow, because she went along so quietly, 
behaving just like any other cow. Evidently she nei¬ 
ther knew nor cared so much as a wisp of hay about 
Cadmus, and was only thinking how to get her living 
along the wayside, where the herbage was green and 
fresh. Perhaps she was going home to be milked. 

“ Cow, cow, cow! ” cried Cadmus. “ Hey, Brindle, 
hey! Stop, my good cow.” 

He wanted to come up with the cow, so as to ex¬ 
amine her, and see if she would appear to know him, 
or whether there were any peculiarities to distinguish 
her from a thousand other cows, whose only business 
is to fill the milk-pail, and sometimes kick it over. 
But still the brindled cow trudged on, whisking her 
tail to keep the flies away, and taking as little notice 
of Cadmus as she well could. If he walked slowly, 
so did the cow, and seized the opportunity to graze. 
If he quickened his pace, the cow went just so much 
the faster; and once, when Cadmus tried to catch her 
by running, she threw out her heels, stuck her tail 
straight on end, and set off at a gallop, looking as 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 293 

queerly as cows generally do, while putting themselves 
to their speed. 

When Cadmus saw that it was impossible to come 
up with her, he walked on moderately, as before. The 
cow, too, went leisurely on, without looking behind. 
Wherever the grass was greenest, there she nibbled a 
mouthful or two. Where a brook glistened brightly 
across the path, there the cow drank, and breathed a 
comfortable sigh, and drank again, and trudged on¬ 
ward at the pace that best suited herself and Cadmus. 

“ I do believe,’’ thought Cadmus, “ that this maj 
be the cow that was foretold me. If it be the one, I 
suppose she will lie down somewhere hereabouts.” 

Whether it were the oracular cow or some othei 
one, it did not seem reasonable that she should travel 
a great way farther. So, whenever they reached a 
particularly pleasant spot on a breezy hill-side, or in 
a sheltered vale, or flowery meadow, on the shore of 
a calm lake, or along the bank of a clear stream, Cad¬ 
mus looked eagerly around to see if the situation would 
suit him for a home. But still, whether he liked the 
place or no, the brindled cow never offered to lie down. 
On she went at the quiet pace of a cow going home¬ 
ward to the barn-yard ; and, every moment, Cadmus 
expected to see a milkmaid approaching with a pail, 
or a herdsman running to head the stray animal, and 
turn her back towards the pasture. But no milkmaid 
came ; no herdsman drove her back ; and Cadmus fol¬ 
lowed the stray Brindle till he was almost ready to 
drop down with fatigue. 

“ O brindled cow,” cried he, in a tone of despair, 
do you never mean to stop ? ” 

He had now grown too intent on following her to 
think of lagging behind, however long the way, and 


294 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


whatever might be his fatigue. Indeed, it seemed as if 
there were something about the animal that bewitched 
people. Several persons who happened to see the brin¬ 
dled cow, and Cadmus following behind, began to 
trudge after her, precisely as he did. Cadmus was 
glad of somebody to converse with, and therefore 
talked very freely to these good people. He told them 
all his adventures, and how he had left King Agenor 
in his palace, and Phoenix at one place, and Cilix at 
another, and Thasus at a third, and his dear mother, 
Queen Telephassa, under a flowery sod; so that now 
he was quite alone, both friendless and homeless. He 
mentioned, likewise, that the oracle had bidden him 
be guided by a cow, and inquired of the strangers 
whether they supposed that this brindled animal could 
be the one. 

“ Why, ’t is a very wonderful affair,” answered one 
of his new companions. “ I am pretty well acquainted 
with the ways of cattle, and I never knew a cow, of her 
own accord, to go so far without stopping. If my legs 
will let me, I ’ll never leave following the beast till 
she lies down.” 

“ Nor I! ” said a second. 

“ Nor I! ” cried a third. “ If she goes a hundred 
miles farther, I’m determined to see the end of it.” 

The secret of it was, you must know, that the cow 
was an enchanted cow, and that, without their being 
conscious of it, she threw some of her enchantment 
over everybody that took so much as half a dozen 
steps behind her. They could not possibly help fol¬ 
lowing her, though, all the time, they fancied them¬ 
selves doing it of their own accord. The cow was by 
no means very nice in choosing her path; so that 
sometimes they had to scramble over rocks, or wade 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 295 

through mud and mire, and were all in a terribly be- 
draggled condition, and tired to death, and very hun- 
gry, into the bargain. What a weary business it was ! 

But still they kept trudging stoutly forward, and 
talking as they went. The strangers grew very fond 
of Cadmus, and resolved never to leave him, but to 
help him build a city wherever the cow might lie down. 
In the centre of it there should be a noble palace, in 
which Cadmus might dwell, and be their king, with a 
throne, a crown and sceptre, a purple robe, and every- 
thing else that a king ought to have ; for in him there 
was the royal blood, and the royal heart, and the head 
that knew how to rule. 

While they were talking of these schemes, and be¬ 
guiling the tediousness of the way with laying out the 
plan of the new city, one of the company happened to 
look at the cow. 

“ Joy ! joy ! ” cried he, clapping his hands. “ Brin- 
dle is going to lie down.” 

They all looked ; and, sure enough, the cow had 
stopped, and was staring leisurely about her, as other 
cows do when on the point of lying down. And slowly, 
slowly did she recline herself on the soft grass, first 
bending her fore legs, and then crouching her hind 
ones. When Cadmus and his companions came up 
with her, there was the brindled cow taking her ease, 
chewing her cud, and looking them quietly in the face; 
as if this was just the spot she had been seeking for, 
and as if it were all a matter of course. 

“ This, then,” said Cadmus, gazing around him, 
u this is to be my home.” 

It was a fertile and lovely plain, with great trees 
flinging their sun-speckled shadows over it, and hills 
fencing it in from the rough weather. At no great 


296 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

distance, they beheld a river gleaming in the sunshine, 
A home feeling stole into the heart of poor Cadmus. 
He was very glad to know that here he might awake 
in the morning, without the necessity of putting on 
his dusty sandals to travel farther and farther. The 
days and the years would pass over him, and find him 
still in this pleasant spot. If he could have had his 
brothers with him, and his friend Thasus, and could 
have seen his dear mother under a roof of his own, he 
might here have been happy, after all their disappoint¬ 
ments. Some day or other, too, his sister Eurojja 
might have come quietly to the door of his home, and 
smiled round upon the familiar faces. But, indeed, 
since there was no hope of regaining the friends of his 
boyhood, or ever seeing his dear sister again, Cadmus 
resolved to make himself happy with these new com¬ 
panions, who had grown so fond of him while follow¬ 
ing the cow. 

“ Yes, my friends,” said he to them, “ this is to be 
our home. Here we will build our habitations. The 
brindled cow, which has led us hither, will supply us 
with milk. We will cultivate the neighboring soil, 
and lead an innocent and happy life.” 

His companions joyfully assented to this plan; and, 
in the first place, being very hungry and thirsty, they 
looked about them for the means of providing a com¬ 
fortable meal. Not far off, they saw a tuft of trees, 
which appeared as if there might be a spring of water 
beneath them. They went thither to fetch some, leav¬ 
ing Cadmus stretched on the ground along with the 
brindled cow; for, now that he had found a place of 
rest, it seemed as if all the weariness of his pilgrimage, 
ever since he left King Agenor’s palace, had fallen 
upon him at once. But his new friends had not long 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 297 

been gone, when he was suddenly startled by cries, 
shouts, and screams, and the noise of a terrible strug¬ 
gle, and in the midst of it all, a most awful hissing, 
which went right through his ears like a rough saw. 

Running towards the tuft of trees, he beheld the 
head and fiery eyes of an immense serpent or dragon, 
with the widest jaws that ever a dragon had, and a 
vast many rows of horribly sharp teeth. Before Cad¬ 
mus could reach the spot, this pitiless reptile had killed 
his poor companions, and was busily devouring them, 
making but a mouthful of each man. 

It appears that the fountain of water was enchanted, 
and that the dragon had been set to guard it, so that 
no mortal might ever quench his thirst there. As the 
neighboring inhabitants carefully avoided the spot, it 
was now a long time (not less than a hundred years, 
or thereabouts) since the monster had broken his fast; 
and, as was natural enough, his appetite had grown to 
be enormous, and was not half satisfied by the poor 
people whom he had just eaten up. When he caught 
sight of Cadmus, therefore, he set up another abomi¬ 
nable hiss, and flung back his immense jaws, until his 
mouth looked like a great red cavern, at the farther 
end of which were seen the legs of his last victim, 
whom he had hardly had time to swallow. 

But Cadmus was so enraged at the destruction of 
his friends, that he cared neither for the size of the 
dragon’s jaws nor for his hundreds of sharp teeth. 
Drawing his sword, he rushed at the monster, and 
flung himself right into his cavernous mouth. This 
bold method of attacking him took the dragon by sur¬ 
prise ; for, in fact, Cadmus had leaped so far down 
into his throat, that the rows of terrible teeth could 
not close upon him, nor do him the least harm in the 


298 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


world. Thus, though the struggle was a tremendous 
one, and though the dragon shattered the tuft of trees 
into small splinters by the lashing of his tail, yet, as 
Cadmus was all the while slashing and stabbing at his 
very vitals, it was not long before the scaly wretch be¬ 
thought himself of slipping away. He had not gone 
his length, however, when the brave Cadmus gave him 
a sword-thrust that finished the battle; and, creeping 
out of the gateway of the creature’s jaws, there he be¬ 
held him still wriggling his vast bulk, although there 
was no longer life enough in him to harm a little 
child. 

But do not you suppose that it made Cadmus sor¬ 
rowful to think of the melancholy fate which had be¬ 
fallen those poor, friendly people, who had followed 
the cow along with him? It seemed as if he were 
doomed to lose everybody whom he loved, or to see 
them perish in one way or another. And here he was, 
after all his toils and troubles, in a solitary place, with 
not a single human being to help him build a hut. 

“ What shall I do ? ” cried he aloud. “ It were 
better for me to have been devoured by the dragon, as 
my poor companions were.” 

“ Cadmus,” said a voice, — but whether it came 
from above or below him, or whether it spoke within 
his own breast, the young man could not tell, —“ Cad¬ 
mus, pluck out the dragon’s teeth, and plant them in 
the earth.” 

This was a strange thing to do; nor was it very 
easy, I should imagine, to dig out all those deep-rooted 
fangs from the dead dragon’s jaws. But Cadmus 
toiled and tugged, and after pounding the monstrous 
head almost to pieces with a great stone, he at last 
collected as many teeth as might have filled a bushel 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 299 


or two. The next thing was to plant them. This, 
likewise, was a tedious piece of work, especially as 
Cadmus was already exhausted with killing the dragon 
and knocking his head to pieces, and had nothing to 
dig the earth with, that I know of, unless it were his 
sword-blade. Finally, however, a sufficiently large 
tract of ground was turned up, and sown with this 
new kind of seed ; although half of the dragon’s teeth 
still remained to be planted some other day. 

Cadmus, quite out of breath, stood leaning upon his 
sword, and wondering what was to happen next. He 
had waited but a few moments, when he began to see 
a sight, which was as great a marvel as the most mar¬ 
vellous thing I ever told you about. 

The sun was shining slantwise over the field, and 
showed all the moist, dark soil just like any other 
newly planted piece of ground. All at once, Cadmus 
fancied he saw something glisten very brightly, first at 
one spot, then at another, and then at a hundred and a 
thousand spots together. Soon he perceived them to 
be the steel heads of spears, sprouting up everywhere 
like so many stalks of grain, and continually growing 
taller and taller. Next appeared a vast number of 
bright sword-blades, thrusting themselves up in the 
same way. A moment afterwards, the whole surface 
of the ground was broken up by a multitude of pol¬ 
ished brass helmets, coming up like a crop of enor¬ 
mous beans. So rapidly did they grow, that Cadmus 
now discerned the fierce countenance of a man be¬ 
neath every one. In short, before he had time to 
think what a wonderful affair it was, he beheld an 
abundant harvest of what looked like human beings, 
armed with helmets and breastplates, shields, swords 
and spears ; and before they were well out of the 


300 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 


earth, they brandished their weapons, and clashed 
them one against another, seeming to think, little 
while as they had yet lived, that they had wasted too 
much of life without a battle. Every tooth of the 
dragon had produced one of these sons of deadly 
.mischief. 

Up sprouted, also, a great many trumpeters; and 
with the first breath that they drew, they put their 
brazen trumpets to their lips, and sounded a tremen¬ 
dous and ear-shattering blast; so that the whole space, 
just now so quiet and solitary, reverberated with the 
clash and clang of arms, the bray of warlike music, 
and the shouts of angry men. So enraged did they 
all look, that Cadmus fully expected them to put the 
whole world to the sword. How fortunate would it be 
for a great conqueror, if he could get a bushel of the 
dragon’s teeth to sow ! 

“ Cadmus,” said the same voice which he had before 
heard, “throw a stone into the midst of the armed 
men.” 

So Cadmus seized a large stone, and, flinging it into 
the middle of the earth army, saw it strike the breast¬ 
plate of a gigantic and fierce-looking warrior. Imme¬ 
diately on feeling the blow, he seemed to take it for 
granted that somebody had struck him ; and, uplifting 
his weapon, he smote his next neighbor a blow that 
cleft his helmet asunder, and stretched him on the 
ground. In an instant, those nearest the fallen war¬ 
rior began to strike at one another with their swords 
and stab with their spears. The confusion spread 
v ider and wider. Each man smote down his brother, 
and was himself smitten down before he had time to 
exult in his victory. The trumpeters, all the while, 
blew their blasts shriller and shriller ; each soldier 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 301 

shouted a battle-cry and often fell with it on his lips. 
It was the strangest spectacle of causeless wrath, and 
of mischief for no good end, that had ever been wit¬ 
nessed ; but, after all, it was neither more foolish nor 
more wicked than a thousand battles that have since 
been fought, in which men have slain their brothers 
with just as little reason as these children of the drag- 
on’s teeth. It ought to be considered, too, that the 
dragon people were made for nothing else ; whereas 
other mortals were born to love and help one an¬ 
other. 

Well, this memorable battle continued to rage until 
the ground was strewn with helmeted heads that had 
been cut off. Of all the thousands that began the 
fight, there were only five left standing. These now 
rushed from different parts of the field, and, meeting 
in the middle of it, clashed their swords, and struck at 
each other’s hearts as fiercely as ever. 

“ Cadmus,” said the voice again, “ bid those five 
warriors sheathe their swords. They will help you 
to build the city.” 

Without hesitating an instant, Cadmus stepped for¬ 
ward, with the aspect of a king and a leader, and ex¬ 
tending his drawn sword amongst them, spoke to the 
warriors in a stern and commanding voice. 

“ Sheathe your weapons ! ” said he. 

And forthwith, feeling themselves bound to obey 
him, the five remaining sons of the dragon’s teeth 
made him a military salute with their swords, returned 
them to the scabbards, and stood before Cadmus in a 
rank, eyeing him as soldiers eye their captain, while 
awaiting the word of command. 

These five men had probably sprung from the big¬ 
gest of the dragon's teeth, and were the boldest and 


302 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

strongest of the whole army. They were almost 
giants, indeed, and had good need to be so, else they 
never could have lived through so terrible a fight. 
They still had a very furious look, and, if Cadmus 
happened to glance aside, would glare at one another, 
with fire flashing out of their eyes. It was strange, 
too, to observe how the earth, out of which they had 
so lately grown, was incrusted, here and there, on 
their bright breastplates, and even begrimed their 
faces, just as you may have seen it clinging to beets 
and carrots when pulled out of their native soil. Cad¬ 
mus hardly knew whether to consider them as men, 
or some odd kind of vegetable; although, on the 
whole, he concluded that there was human nature in 
them, because they were so fond of trumpets and 
weapons, and so ready to shed blood. 

They looked him earnestly in the face, waiting for 
his next order, and evidently desiring no other em¬ 
ployment than to follow him from one battle-field to 
another, all over the wide world. But Cadmus was 
wiser than these earth-born creatures, with the drag¬ 
on’s fierceness in them, and knew better how to use 
their strength and hardihood. 

“Come!” said he. “You are sturdy fellows. 
Make yourselves useful! Quarry some stones with 
those great swords of yours, and help me to build a 
city.” 

The five soldiers grumbled a little, and muttered 
that it was their business to overthrow cities, not to 
build them up. But Cadmus looked at them with a 
stern eye, and spoke to them in a tone of authority, 
so that they knew him for their master, and never 
again thought of disobeying his commands. They set 
to work in good earnest, and toiled so diligently, that, 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 303 

in a very sliort time, a city began to make its appear¬ 
ance. At first, to be sure, the workmen showed a 
quarrelsome disposition. Like savage beasts, they 
would doubtless have done one another a mischief, if 
Cadmus had not kept watch over them and quelled 
the fierce old serpent that lurked in their hearts, when 
he saw it gleaming out of their wild eyes. But, in 
course of time, they got accustomed to honest labor, 
and had sense enough to feel that there was more true 
enjoyment in living at peace, and doing good to one’s 
neighbor, than in striking at him with a two-edged 
sword. It may not be too much to hope that the rest 
of mankind will by and by grow as wise and peaceable 
as these five earth-begrimed warriors, who sprang from 
the dragon’s teeth. 

And now the city was built, and there was a home 
in it for each of the workmen. But the palace of 
Cadmus was not yet erected, because they had left it 
till the last, meaning to introduce all the new improve¬ 
ments of architecture, and make it very commodious,, 
as well as stately and beautiful. After finishing the 
rest of their labors, they all went to bed betimes, in 
order to rise in the gray of the morning, and get at 
least the foundation of the edifice laid before night' 
fall. But, when Cadmus arose, and took his way 
towards the site where the palace was to be built, fob 
lowed by his five sturdy workmen marching all in a 
row, what do you think he saw ? 

What should it be but the most magnificent palace 
that had ever been seen in the world ? It was built of 
marble and other beautiful kinds of stone, and rose 
high into the air, with a splendid dome and a portico 
along the front, and carved pillars, *nd e verything else 
that befitted the habitation of a mighty king. It had 


304 THE DRAGON’S TEETH 

grown up out of 'the earth in almost as short a time as 
it had taken the armed host to spring from the drag¬ 
on’s teeth; and what made the matter more strange, 
no seed of this stately edifice had ever been planted. 

When the five workmen beheld the dome, with the 
uorning sunshine making it look golden and glorious r 
they gave a great shout. 

“ Long live King Cadmus,” they cried, “ in his 
beautiful palace.” 

And the new king, with his five faithful followers at 
his heels, shouldering their pickaxes and marching in 
a rank (for they still had a soldier-like sort of behav¬ 
ior, as their nature was), ascended the palace steps. 
Halting at the entrance, they gazed through a long 
vista of lofty pillars that were ranged from end to end 
of a great hall. At the farther extremity of this hall, 
approaching slowly towards him, Cadmus beheld a 
female figure, wonderfully beautiful, and adorned with 
a royal robe, and a crown of diamonds over her golden 
ringlets, and the richest necklace that ever a queen 
wore. His heart thrilled with delight. He fancied it 
his long-lost sister Europa, now grown to womanhood, 
coming to make him happy, and to repay him, with 
her sweet sisterly affection, for all those weary wan¬ 
derings in quest of her since he left King Agenor’s 
palace, — for the tears that he had shed, on parting 
with Phoenix, and Cilix, and Thasus, — for the heart- 
breakings that had made the whole world seem dismal 
to him over his dear mother’s grave. 

But, as Cadmus advanced to meet the beautiful 
stranger, he saw that her features were unknown to 
him, although, in the little time that it required to 
tread along the hall, he had already felt a sympathy 
betwixt himself and her. 


THE DRAGON’S TEETH 305 

tt No, Cadmus,” said the same voice that had spoken 
to him in the field of the armed men, “ this is not that 
dear sister Europa whom you have sought so faithfully 
all over the wide world. This is Harmonia, a daugh¬ 
ter of the sky, who is given you instead of sister, and 
brothers, and friend, and mother. You will find al 1 
those dear ones in her alone.” 

So King Cadmus dwelt in the palace, with his new 
friend Harmonia, and found a great deal of comfort 
in his magnificent abode, but would doubtless have 
found as much, if not more, in the humblest cottage 
by the wayside. Before many years went by, there 
was a group of rosy little children (but how they 
came thither has always been a mystery to me) sport¬ 
ing in the great hall, and on the marble steps of the 
palace, and running joyfully to meet King Cadmus 
when affairs of state left him at leisure to play with 
them. They called him father, and Queen Harmonia 
mother. The five old soldiers of the dragon’s teeth 
grew very fond of these small urchins, and were never 
weary of showing them how to shoulder sticks, flourish 
wooden swords, and march in military order, blowing 
a penny trumpet, or beating an abominable rub-a-dub 
upon a little drum. 

But King Cadmus, lest there should be too much of 
the dragon’s tooth in his children’s disposition, used to 
find time from his kingly duties to teach them their 
ABC, — which he invented for their benefit, and for 
which many little people, I am afraid, are not half so 
grateful to him as they ought to be. 

vox. iv. 9Q 


CIRCE’S PALACE. 


Some of you have heard, no doubt, of the wise 
King Ulysses, and how he went to the siege of Troy, 
and how, after that famous city was taken and burned, 
he spent ten long years in trying to get back again to 
his own little kingdom of Ithaca. At one time in the 
course of this weary voyage, he arrived at an island 
that looked very green and pleasant, but the name of 
which was unknown to him. For, only a little while 
before he came thither, he had met with a terrible 
hurricane, or rather a great many hurricanes at once, 
which drove his fleet of vessels into a strange part of 
the sea, where neither himself nor any of his mariners 
had ever sailed. This misfortune was entirely owing 
to the foolish curiosity of his shipmates, who, while 
Ulysses lay asleep, had untied some very bulky leathern 
bags, in which they supposed a valuable treasure to 
be concealed. But in each of these stout bags, King 
iEolus, the ruler of the winds, had tied up a tempest, 
and had given it to Ulysses to keep, in order that he 
might be sure of a favorable passage homeward to 
Ithaca; and when the strings were loosened, forth 
rushed the whistling blasts, like air out of a blown 
bladder, whitening the sea with foam, and scattering 
the vessels nobody could tell whither. 

Immediately after escaping from this peril, a still 
greater one had befallen him. Scudding before the 
hurricane, he reached a place, which, as he afterwards 
found, was called Laestrygonia, where some monstrous 











CIRCE’S PALACE 


307 


grants had eaten up many of his companions, and had 
sunk every one of his vessels, except that in which 
he himself sailed, by flinging great masses of rock 
at them, from the cliffs along the shore. After going 
through such troubles as these, you cannot wondei 
that King Ulysses was glad to moor his tempest 
beaten bark in a quiet cove of the green island, whicl 
I began with telling you about. But he had encoun 
tered so many dangers from giants, and one-eyed Cy 
elopes, and monsters of the sea and land, that he 
could not help dreading some mischief, even in this 
pleasant and seemingly solitary spot. For two days, 
therefore, the poor weather-worn voyagers kept quiet, 
and either stayed on board of their vessel, or merely 
crept along under cliffs that bordered the shore ; and 
to keep themselves alive, they dug shell-fish out of the 
sand, and sought for any little rill of fresh water that 
might be running towards the sea. 

Before the two days were spent, they grew very 
weary of this kind of life; for the followers of King 
Ulysses, as you will find it important to remember, 
were terrible gormandizers, and pretty sure to grum¬ 
ble if they missed their regular meals, and their irreg¬ 
ular ones besides. Their stock of provisions was quite 
exhausted, and even the shelbfish began to get scarce, 
so that they had now to choose between starving to 
death or venturing into the interior of the island, 
where, perhaps, some huge three-headed dragon, or 
other horrible monster, had his den. Such misshapen 
creatures were very numerous in those days ; and no¬ 
body ever expected to make a voyage, or take a jour¬ 
ney, without running more or less risk of being de¬ 
voured by them. 

But King Ulysses was a bold man as well as a pru 


308 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


dent one ; and on the third morning he determined 
to discover what sort of a place the island was, and 
whether it were possible to obtain a supply of food for 
the hungry mouths of his companions. So, taking a 
spear in his hand, he clambered to the summit of a 
cliff, and gazed round about him. At a distance, to* 
wards the centre of the island, he beheld the stately 
towers of what seemed to be a palace, built of snow- 
white marble, and rising in the midst of a grove 
of lofty trees. The thick branches of these trees 
stretched across the front of the edifice, and more 
than half concealed it, although, from the portion 
which he saw, Ulysses judged it to be spacious and 
exceedingly beautiful, and probably the residence of 
some great nobleman or prince. A blue smoke went 
curling up from the chimney, and was almost the 
pleasantest part of the spectacle to Ulysses. For, 
from the abundance of this smoke, it was reasonable 
to conclude that there was a good fire in the kitchen * 
and that, at dinner-time, a plentiful banquet would be 
served up to the inhabitants of the palace, and to 
whatever guests might happen to drop in. 

With so agreeable a prospect before him, Ulysses 
fancied that he could not do better than to go straight 
co the palace gate, and tell the master of it that there 
was a crew of poor shipwrecked mariners, not far off, 
who had eaten nothing for a day or two save a few 
clams and oysters, and would therefore be thankful 
for a little food. And the prince or nobleman must 
be a very stingy curmudgeon, to be sure, if, at least, 
when his own dinner was over, he would not bid them 
welcome to the broken victuals from the table. 

Pleasing himself with this idea, King Ulysses had 
made a few steps in the direction of the palace, when 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


309 


there was a great twittering and chirping from the 
branch of a neighboring tree. A moment afterwards, 
a bird came flying towards him, and hovered in the 
air, so as almost to brush his face with its wings. It 
was a very pretty little bird, with purple wings and 
body, and yellow legs, and a circle of golden feathers 
round its neck, and on its head a golden tuft, which 
looked like a king’s crown in miniature. Ulysses 
tried to catch the bird. But it fluttered nimbly out 
of his reach, still chirping in a piteous tone, as if it 
could have told a lamentable story, had it only been 
gifted with human language. And when he attempted 
to drive it away, the bird flew no farther than the 
bough of the next tree, and again came fluttering 
about his head, with its doleful chirp, as soon as he 
showed a purpose of going forward. 

“ Have you anything to tell me, little bird ? ” asked 
Ulysses. 

And he was ready to listen attentively to whatever 
the bird might communicate ; for at the siege of Troy, 
and elsewhere, he had known such odd things to 
happen, that he would not have considered it much 
out of the common run had this little feathered crea¬ 
ture talked as plainly as himself. 

“ Peep ! ” said the bird, “ peep, peep, pe — weep! ” 
And nothing else would it say, but only, “ Peep, peep, 
pe — weep ! ” in a melancholy cadence, and over and 
over and over again. As often as Ulysses moved for¬ 
ward, however, the bird showed the greatest alarm, 
and did its best to drive him back, with the anxious 
flutter of its purple wings. Its unaccountable be¬ 
havior made him conclude, at last, that the bird knew 
of some danger that awaited him, and which must 
needs be very terrible, beyond all question, since it 


310 CIRCE’S PALACE 

moved even a little fowl to feel compassion for a 
human being. So he resolved, for the present, to 
return to the vessel, and tell his companions what he 
had seen. 

This appeared to satisfy the bird. As soon as 
Ulysses turned back, it ran up the trunk of a tree, 
and began to pick insects out of the bark with its 
long, sharp bill; for it was a kind of woodpecker, you 
must know, and had to get its living in the same 
manner as other birds of that species. But every 
little while, as it pecked at the bark of the tree, the 
purple bird bethought itself of some secret sorrow, 
and repeated its plaintive note of “ Peep, peep, pe — 
weep! ” 

On his way to the shore, Ulysses had the good luck 
to kill a large stag by thrusting his spear into its 
back. Taking it on his shoulders (for he was a re¬ 
markably strong man), he lugged it along with him, 
and flung it down before his hungry companions. I 
have already hinted to you what gormandizers some 
of the comrades of King Ulysses were. From what 
is related of them, I reckon that their favorite diet 
was pork, and that they had lived upon it until a good 
part of their physical substance was swine’s flesh, and 
their tempers and dispositions were very much akin 
to the hog. A dish of venison, however, was no unac¬ 
ceptable meal to them, especially after feeding so long 
on oysters and clams. So, beholding the dead stag, 
they felt of its ribs in a knowing way, and lost no 
time in kindling a fire, of drift-wood, to cook it. The 
rest of the day was spent in feasting ; and if these 
enormous eaters got up from table at sunset, it was 
only because they could not scrape another morsel off 
the poor animal’s bones. 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


311 


The next morning their appetites were as sharp as 
ever. They looked at Ulysses, as if they expected him 
to clamber up the cliff again, and come back with 
another fat deer upon his shoulders. Instead of 
setting out, however, he summoned the whole crew 
together, and told them it was in vain to hope that 
he could kill a stag every day for their dinner, and 
therefore it was advisable to think of some other mode 
of satisfying their hunger. 

“ Now,” said he, “ when I was on the cliff yester¬ 
day, I discovered that this island is inhabited. At a 
considerable distance from the shore stood a marble 
palace, which appeared to be very spacious, and had 
a great deal of smoke curling out of one of its 
chimneys.” 

“ Aha! ” muttered some of his companions, smack¬ 
ing their lips. “ That smoke must have come from 
the kitchen fire. There was a good dinner on the 
spit; and no doubt there will be as good a one to¬ 
day.” 

“ But,” continued the wise Ulysses, “ you must re¬ 
member, my good friends, our misadventure in the 
cavern of one-eyed Polyphemus, the Cyclops! Instead 
of his ordinary milk diet, did he not eat up two of 
our comrades for his supper, and a couple more for 
breakfast, and two at his supper again ? Methinks I 
see him yet, the hideous monster, scanning us with 
that great red eye, in the middle of his forehead, to 
single out the fattest. And then again only a few 
days ago, did we not fall into the hands of the king 
of the Laestrygons, and those other horrible giants, his 
subjects, who devoured a great many more of us than 
are now left ? To tell you the truth, if we go to yonder 
palace, there can be no question that we shall make our 


312 CIRCE’S PALACE 

appearance at the dinner-table; but whether seated as 
guests, or served up as food, is a point to be seriously 
considered.” 

“ Either way,” murmured some of the hungriest of 
the crew, “ it will be better than starvation ; particu¬ 
larly if one could be sure of being well fattened be¬ 
forehand, and daintily cooked afterwards.” 

“That is a matter of taste,” said King Ulysses, 
“ and, for my own part, neither the most careful fat¬ 
tening nor the daintiest of cookery would reconcile 
me to being dished at last. My proposal is, therefore, 
that we divide ourselves into two equal parties, and 
ascertain, by drawing lots, which of the two shall go 
to the palace, and beg for food and assistance. If 
these can be obtained, all is well. If not, and if the 
inhabitants prove as inhospitable as Polyphemus, or 
the Lsestrygons, then there will but half of us perish, 
and the remainder may set sail and escape.” 

As nobody objected to this scheme, Ulysses pro¬ 
ceeded to count the whole band, and found that there 
were forty-six men including himself. He then num¬ 
bered off twenty-two of them, and put Eurylochus 
(who was one of his chief officers, and second only to 
himself in sagacity) at their head. Ulysses took com¬ 
mand of the remaining twenty-two men, in person. 
Then, taking off his helmet, he put two shells into it, 
on one of which was written, “ Go,” and on the other 
“ Stay.” Another person now held the helmet, while 
Ulysses and Eurylochus drew out each a shell; and 
the word “ Go ” was found written on that which 
Eurylochus had drawn. In this manner, it was de¬ 
cided that Ulysses and his twenty-two men were to re¬ 
main at the seaside until the other party should have 
found out what sort of treatment they might expect at 


CIRCE’S PALACE 313 

the mysterious palace. As there was no help for it, 
Eurylochus immediately set forth at the head of his 
twenty-two followers, who went off in a very melan¬ 
choly state of mind, leaving tl^eir friends in hardly 
better spirits than themselves. 

No sooner had they clambered up the cliff, than 
they discerned the tall marble towers of the palace, 
ascending, as white as snow, out of the lovely green 
shadow of the trees which surrounded it. A gush of 
smoke came from a chimney in the rear of the edifice. 
This vapor rose high in the air, and, meeting with a 
breeze; Was wafted seaward, and made to pass over the 
headk, of the hungry mariners. When people’s appe¬ 
tites are keen, they have a very quick scent for any¬ 
thing savory in the wind. 

“ That smoke comes from the kitchen! ” cried one 
of them, turning up his nose as high as he could, and 
snuffing eagerly. “ And, as sure asl’ma half-starved 
vagabond, I smell roast meat in it.” 

“ Pig, roast pig ! ” said another. “ Ah, the dainty 
little porker! My mouth waters for him.” 

“ Let us make haste,” cried the others, “ or we shall 
be too late for the good cheer! ” 

But scarcely had they made half a dozen steps from 
the edge of the cliff, when a bird came fluttering to 
meet them. It was the same pretty little bird, with 
the purple wings and body, the yellow legs, the golden 
collar round its neck, and the crown-like tuft upon its 
head, whose behavior had so much surprised Ulysses. 
It hovered about Eurylochus, and almost brushed his 
face with its wings. 

“ Peep, peep, pe — weep! ” chirped the bird. 

So plaintively intelligent was the sound, that it 
seemed as if the little creature were going to break its 


314 


CIRCE’S PALACE 

heart with some mighty secret that it had to tell, and 
only this one poor note to tell it with. 

u My pretty bird,” said Eurylochus, — for he was a 
wary person, and let no token of harm escape his no¬ 
tice, — “ my pretty bird, who sent you hither ? And 
what is the message which you bring ? ” 

“ Peep, peep, pe — weep ! ” replied the bird, verj 
sorrowfully. 

Then it flew towards the edge of the cliff, and looked 
round at them, as if exceedingly anxious that they 
should return whence they came. Eurylochus and a 
few of the others were inclined to turn back. They 
could not help suspecting that the purple bird must 
be aware of something mischievous that would befall 
them at the palace, and the knowledge of which af¬ 
fected its airy spirit with a human sympathy and sor¬ 
row. But the rest of the voyagers, snuffing up the 
smoke from the palace kitchen, ridiculed the idea of 
returning to the vessel. One of them (more brutal 
than his fellows, and the most notorious gormandizer 
in the whole crew) said such a cruel and wicked thing, 
that I wonder the mere thought did not turn him into 
a wild beast in shape, as he already was ip. his nature. 

“ This troublesome and impertinent little fowl,” 
said he, “would make a delicate titbit to begin dinner 
with. Just one plump morsel, melting away between 
the teeth. If he comes within my reach, I ’ll catch 
him, and give him to the palace cook to be roasted on 
a skewer.” 

The words were hardly out of his mouth, before the 
purple bird flew away, crying “ Peep, peep, pe — 
weep,” more dolorously than ever. 

“ That bird,” remarked Eurylochus, “ knows more 
than we do about what awaits us at the palace.” 


CIRCE’S PALACE 315 

“ Come on, then,” cried his comrades, ^ and we ’13 
soon know as much as he does.” 

The party, accordingly, went onward through the 
green and pleasant wood. Every little while they 
caught new glimpses of the marble palace, which 
looked more and more beautiful the nearer they ap¬ 
proached it. They soon entered a broad pathway 
which seemed to be very neatly kept, and which went 
winding along with streaks of sunshine falling across 
it, and specks of light quivering among the deepest 
shadows that fell from the lofty trees. It was bor¬ 
dered, too, with a great many sweet-smelling flowers, 
such as the mariners had never seen before. So rich 
and beautiful they were, that, if the shrubs grew wild 
here, and were native in the soil, then this island was 
surely the flower-garden of the whole earth; or, if 
transplanted from some other clime, it must have been 
from the Happy Islands that lay towards the golden 
sunset. 

44 There has been a great deal of pains foolishly 
wasted on these flowers,” observed one of the com¬ 
pany ; and I tell you what he said, that you may keep 
in mind what gormandizers they were. u For my part, 
if I were the owner of the palace, I would bid my gar¬ 
dener cultivate nothing but savory potherbs to make 
a stuffing for roast meat, or to flavor a stew with.” 

44 Well said! ” cried the others. 44 But I ’ll warrant 
you there’s a kitchen-garden in the rear of the palace.” 

At one place they came to a crystal spring, and 
paused to drink at it for want of liquor which they 
liked better. Looking into its bosom, they beheld 
their own faces dimly reflected, hut so extravagantly 
distorted by the gush and motion of the water, that 
each one of them appeared to be laughing at himself 


316 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


and all his companions. So ridiculous were these im¬ 
ages of themselves, indeed, that they did really laugh 
aloud, and could hardly be grave again as soon as they 
wished. And after they had drank, they grew still 
merrier than before. 

“ It has a twang of the wine-cask in it,” said one, 
smacking his lips. 

“ Make haste! ” cried his fellows ; “ we ’ll find the 
wine-cask itself at the palace; and that will be better 
than a hundred crystal fountains.” 

Then they quickened their pace, and capered for 
joy at the thought of the savory banquet at which they 
hoped to be guests. But Eurylochus told them that 
he felt as if he were walking in a dream. 

“ If I am really awake,” continued he, “ then, in 
my opinion, we are on the point of meeting with some 
stranger adventure than any that befell us in the cave 
of Polyphemus, or among the gigantic man-eating 
Lfestrygons, or in the windy palace of King rEolus, 
which stands on a brazen-walled island. This kind of 
dreamy feeling always comes over me before an^, won¬ 
derful occurrence. If you take my advice, ydiSwill 
turn back.” 

“No, no,” answered his comrades, snuffing the air, 
in which the scent from the palace kitchen was now 
very perceptible. “We would not turn back, though 
we were certain that the king of the Lsestrygons, as 
big as a mountain, would sit at the head of the table, 
and huge Polyphemus, the one-eyed Cyclops, at its 
foot.” 

At length they came within full sight of the palace, 
which proved to be very large and lofty, with a great 
number of airy pinnacles upon its roof. Though it 
was now midday, and the sun shone brightly over the 


CIRCE’S PALACE 317 

marble front, yet its snowy whiteness, and its fantas¬ 
tic style of architecture, made it look unreal, like the 
frostwork on a window-pane, or like the shapes of cas¬ 
tles which one sees among 1 the clouds by moonlight. 
But, just then, a puff of wind brought down the smoke 
of the kitchen chimney among thctn, and caused each 
man to smell the odor of the dish that he liked best; 
and, after scenting it, they thought everything else 
moonshine, and nothing real save this palace, and 
save the banquet that was evidently ready to be served 
up in it. 

So they hastened their steps towards the portal, but 
had not got half-way across the wide lawn, when a 
pack of lions, tigers, and wolves came bounding to 
meet them. The terrified mariners started back, ex¬ 
pecting no better fate than to be torn to pieces and 
devoured. To their surprise and joy, however, these 
wild beasts merely capered around them, wagging 
their tails, offering their heads to be stroked and pat¬ 
ted, and behaving just like so many well-bred house¬ 
dogs, when they wish to express their delight at meet¬ 
ing their master, or their master’s friends. The big¬ 
gest lion licked the feet of Eurylochus ; and every 
other lion, and every wolf and tiger, singled out one 
of his two-and-twenty followers, whom the beast fon¬ 
dled als if he loved him better than a beef-bone. 

But, for all that, Eurylochus imagined that he saw 
something fierce and savage in their eyes ; nor would 
he have been surprised, at any moment, to feel the big 
lion’s terrible claws, or to 3ee each of the tigers make 
a deadly spring, or each wolf leap at the throat of the 
man whom he had fondled. Their mildness seemed 
unreal, and a mere freak; but their savage nature 
was as true as their teeth and claws 


318 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


Nevertheless, the men went safely across the lawn 
with the wild beasts frisking about them, and doing 
no manner of harm ; although, as they mounted the 
steps of the palace, you might possibly have heard 
a low growl, particularly from the wolves ; as if they 
thought it a pity, after all, to let the strangers pass 
without so much as tasting what they were made of. 

Eurylochus and his followers now passed under a 
Softy portal, and looked through the open doorway 
into the interior of the palace. The first thing that 
they saw was a spacious hall, and a fountain in the 
middle of it, gushing up towards the ceiling out of a 
marble basin, and falling back into it with a continual 
plash. The water of this fountain, as it spouted up* 
ward, was constantly taking new shapes, not very dis¬ 
tinctly, but plainly enough for a nimble fancy to rec¬ 
ognize what they were. Now it was the shape of a 
man in a long robe, the fleecy whiteness of which was 
made out of the fountain’s spray; now it was a lion, 
or a tiger, or a wolf, or an ass, or, as often as any¬ 
thing else, a hog, wallowing in the marble basin as if 
it were his sty. It was either magic or some very cu¬ 
rious machinery that caused the gushing waterspout 
to assume all these forms. But, before the strangers 
had time to look closely at this wonderful sight, their 
attention was drawn off by a very sweet and agreeable 
sound. A woman’s voice was singing melodiously in 
another room of the palace, and with her voice was 
mingled the noise of a loom, at which she was proba¬ 
bly seated, weaving a rich texture of cloth, and inter¬ 
twining the high and low sweetness of her voice into 
a rich tissue of harmony. 

By and by, the song came to an end; and then, all 
at once, there were several feminine voices, talking 


319 


CIRCE’S PALACE 

airily and cheerfully, with now and then a merry burst 
of laughter, such as you may always hear when three 
or four young women sit at work together. 

44 What a sweet song that was! ” exclaimed one of 
the voyagers. 

44 Too sweet, indeed,” answered Eurylochus, shak¬ 
ing his head. 44 Yet it was not so sweet as the song 
of the Sirens, those birdlike damsels who wanted to 
tempt us on the rocks, so that our vessel might be 
wrecked, and our bones left whitening along the 
shore.” 

44 But just listen to the pleasant voices of those 
maidens, and that buzz of the loom, as the shuttle 
passes to and fro,” said another comrade. 44 What a 
domestic, household, homelike sound it is ! Ah, be¬ 
fore that weary siege of Troy, I used to hear the buz¬ 
zing loom and the women’s voices under my own roof. 
Shall I never hear them again ? nor taste those nice 
little savory dishes which my dearest wife knew how 
to serve up ? ” 

44 Tush! we shall fare better here,” said another. 
44 But how innocently those women are babbling to¬ 
gether, without guessing that we overhear them! And 
mark that richest voice of all, so pleasant and famil¬ 
iar, but which yet seems to have the authority of a 
mistress among them. Let us show ourselves at once. 
What harm can the lady of the palace and her maid¬ 
ens do to mariners and warriors like us? ” 

44 Remember,” said Eurylochus, 44 that it was a 
young maiden who beguiled three of our friends into 
the palace of the king of the Laestrygons, who ate up 
one of them in the twinkling of an eye.” 

No warning or persuasion, however, had any effect 
oil his companions. They went up to a pair of folding* 


320 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


doors at the farther end of the hall, and, throwing 
them wide open, passed into the next room. Eury- 
lochus, meanwhile, had stepped behind a pillar In 
the short moment while the folding-doors opened and 
closed again, he caught a glimpse of a very beautiful 
woman rising from the loom, and coming to meet 
the poor weather beaten wanderers, with a hospitable 
smile, and her hand stretched out in welcome. There 
were four other young women, who joined their hands 
and danced merrily forward, making gestures of obei¬ 
sance to the strangers. They were only less beautiful 
than the lady who seemed to be their mistress. Yet 
Eurylochus fancied that one of them had sea-green 
hair, and that the close-fitting bodice of a second 
looked like the bark of a tree, and that both the oth¬ 
ers had something odd in their aspect, although ho 
could not quite determine what it was, in the little 
while that he had to examine them. 

The folding-doors swung quickly back, and left him 
standing behind the pillar, in the solitude of the outer 
hall. There Eurylochus waited until he was quite 
weary, and listened eagerly to every sound, but with¬ 
out hearing anything that could help him to guess 
what had become of his friends. Footsteps, it is true, 
seemed to be passing and repassing in other parts of 
the palace. Then there was a clatter of silver dishes, 
or golden ones, which made him imagine a rich feast 
in a splendid banqueting-hall. But by and by he 
heard a tremendous grunting and squealing, and then 
a sudden scampering, like that of small, hard hoofs 
over a marble floor, while the voices of the mistress 
and her four handmaidens were screaming all to¬ 
gether, in tones of anger and derision. Eurylochus 
could not conceive what had happened, unless a'drove 


CIRCE’S PALACE 321 

r of swine had broken into the palace, attracted by the 
smell of the feast. Chancing to cast his eyes at the 
fountain, he saw that it did not shift its shape, as for¬ 
merly, nor looked either like a long-robed man, or a 
lion, a tiger, a wolf, or an ass. It looked like nothing 
but a hog, which lay wallowing in the marble basin, 
and filled it from brim to brim. 

But we must leave the prudent Eurylochus waiting 
in the outer hall, and follow his friends into the inner 
secrecy of the palace. As soon as the beautiful woman 
saw them, she arose from the loom, as I have told you, 
and came forward, smiling, and stretching out her 
hand. She took the hand of the foremost among 
them, and bade him and the whole party welcome. 

“ You have been long expected, my good friends,” 
said she. “ I and my maidens are well acquainted 
with you, although you do not appear to recognize us. 
Look at this piece of tapestry, and judge if your faces 
must not have been familiar to us.” 

So the voyagers examined the web of cloth which 
the beautiful woman had been weaving in her loom ; 
and, to their vast astonishment they saw their own fig¬ 
ures perfectly represented in different colored threads. 
It was a lifelike picture of their recent adventures, 
showing them in the cave of Polyphemus, and how 
they had put out his one great moony eye; while in 
another part of the tapestry they were untying the 
leathern bags, puffed out with contrary winds; and 
farther on, they beheld themselves scampering away 
from the gigantic king of the Lsestrygons, who had 
caught one of them by the leg. Lastly, there they 
were, sitting on the desolate shore of this very island, 
hungry and downcast, and looking ruefully at the 
bare bones of the stag which they devoured yesterday. 
21 


VOL. IV 


322 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


This was as far as the work had yet proceeded; but 
when the beautiful woman should again sit down at 
her loom, she would probably make a picture of what 
had since happened to the strangers, and of what was 
now going to happen. 

“You see,” she said, “that I know all about your* 
troubles ; and you cannot doubt that I desire to make 
you happy for as long a time as you may remain with 
me. For this purpose, my honored guests, I have or- 
dered a banquet to be prepared. Fish, fowl, and flesh, 
roasted, and in luscious stews, and seasoned, I trust, 
to all your tastes, are ready to be served up. If your 
appetites tell you it is dinner-time, then come with me 
to the festal saloon.” 

At this kind invitation, the hungry mariners were 
quite overjoyed; and one of them, taking upon him¬ 
self to be spokesman, assured their hospitable hostess 
that any hour of the day was dinner-time with them, 
whenever they could get flesh to put in the pot, and 
fire to boil it with. So the beautiful woman led the 
way; and the four maidens (one of them had sea- 
green hair, another a bodice of oak bark, a third 
sprinkled a shower of water-drops from her fingers’ 
ends, and the fourth had some other oddity, which I 
have forgotten), all these followed behind, and hur¬ 
ried the guests along, until they entered a magnificent 
saloon. It was built in a perfect oval, and lighted 
from a crystal dome above. Around the walls were 
ranged two-and-twenty thrones, overhung by canopies 
of crimson and gold, and provided with the softest 
of cushions, which were tasselled and fringed with 
gold cord. Each of the strangers was invited to sit 
down ; and there they were, two-and-twenty storm- 
beaten mariners, in worn and tattered garb, sitting 


323 


CIRCE’S PALACE 

on two-and-twenty cushioned and canopied thrones, so 
rich and gorgeous that the proudest monarch had 
nothing more splendid in his stateliest hall. 

Then you might have seen the guests nodding, 
winking with one eye, and leaning from one throne to 
another, to communicate their satisfaction in hoarse 
whispers. 

“ Our good hostess has made kings of us all,” said 
one. “ Ha! do you smell the feast ? I ’ll engage it 
will be fit to set before two-and-twenty kings.” 

“ I hope,” said another, “ it will be, mainly, good 
substantial joints, sirloins, spareribs, and hinder quar¬ 
ters, without too many kickshaws. If I thought the 
good lady would not take it amiss, I should call for a 
fat slice of fried bacon to begin with.” 

Ah, the gluttons and gormandizers ! You see how 
it was with them. In the loftiest seats of dignity, on 
royal thrones, they could think of nothing but their 
greedy appetite, which was the portion of their nature 
that they shared with wolves and swine ; so that they 
resembled those vilest of animals far more than they 
did kings, — if, indeed, kings were what they ought 
to be. 

But the beautiful woman now clapped her hands ; 
and immediately there entered a train of two-and- 
twenty serving-men, bringing dishes of the richest 
food, all hot from the kitchen fire, and sending up 
such a steam that it hung like a cloud below the crys¬ 
tal dome of the saloon. An equal number of attend¬ 
ants brought great flagons of wine, of various kinds, 
some of which sparkled as it was poured out, and 
went bubbling down the throat; while, of other sorts, 
the purple liquor was so clear that you could see the 
wrought figures at the bottom of the goblet. While 


324 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


the servants supplied the two-and-twenty guests with 
food and drink, the hostess and her four maidens went 
from one throne to another, exhorting them to eat 
their fill, and to quaff wine abundantly, and thus to 
recompense themselves, at this one banquet, for the 
many days when they had gone without a dinner. But, 
whenever the mariners were not looking at then, 
(which was pretty often, as they looked chiefly into 
the basins and platters), the beautiful woman and hei 
damsels turned aside and laughed. Even the servants, 
as they knelt down to present the dishes, might be 
seen to grin and sneer, while the guests were helping 
themselves to the offered dainties. 

And, once in a while, the strangers seemed to taste 
something that they did not like. 

“ Here is an odd kind of a spice in this dish,” said 
one. “ I can’t say it quite suits my palate. Down it 
goes, however.” 

“ Send a good draught of wine down your throat,” 
said his comrade on the next throne. “ That is the 
stuff to make this sort of cookery relish well. Though 
I must needs say, the wine has a queer taste too. But 
the more I drink of it the better I like the flavor.” 

Whatever little fault they might find with the dishes, 
they sat at dinner a prodigiously long while; and it 
would really have made you ashamed to see how they 
swilled down the liquor and gobbled up the food. They 
sat on golden thrones, to be sure ; but they behaved 
like pigs in a sty ; and, if they had had their wits 
about them, they might have guessed that this was the 
opinion of their beautiful hostess and her maidens. It 
brings a blush into my face to reckon up, in my own 
mind, what mountains of meat and pudding, and what 
gallons of wine, these two-and-twenty guzzlers and gor* 


325 


CIRCE’S PALACE 

mandizers ate and drank. They forgot all about their 
homes, and their wives and children, and all about 
Ulysses, and everything else, except this banquet, at 
which they wanted to keep feasting forever. But at 
length they began to give over, from mere incapacity 
to hold any more. 

“ That last bit of fat is too much for me,” said one. 

“ And I have not room for another morsel,” said his 
next neighbor, heaving a sigh. “ What a pity! My 
appetite is as sharp as ever.” 

In short, they all left off eating, and leaned back on 
their thrones, with such a stupid and helpless aspect 
as made them ridiculous to behold. When their hostess 
saw this, she laughed aloud; so did her four damsels ; 
so did the two-and-twenty serving men that bore the 
dishes, and their two-and-twenty fellows that poured 
out the wine. And the louder they all laughed, the 
more stupid and helpless did the two-and-twenty gor¬ 
mandizers look. Then the beautiful woman took her 
stand in the middle of the saloon, and stretching out a 
slender rod (it had been all the while in her hand, al¬ 
though they never noticed it till this moment), she 
turned it from one guest to another, until each had felt 
it pointed at himself. Beautiful as her face was, and 
though there was a smile on it, it looked just as wicked 
and mischievous as the ugliest serpent that ever was 
seen; and fat-witted as the voyagers had made them¬ 
selves, they began to suspect that they had fallen into 
the power of an evil-minded enchantress. 

“Wretches,” cried she, “you have abused a lady’s 
hospitality ; and in this princely saloon your behavior 
has been suited to a hogpen. You are already swine 
in everything but the human form, which you disgrace, 
und which I myself should be ashamed to keep a mo- 


326 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


ment longer, were you to share it with me. But it 
will require only the slightest exercise of magic to 
make the exterior conform to the hoggish disposition. 
Assume your proper shapes, gormandizers, and begone 
to the sty ! ” 

Uttering these last words, she waved her wand ; and 
stamping her foot imperiously, each of the guests was 
struck aghast at beholding, instead of his comrades in 
human shape, one-and-twenty hogs sitting on the same 
number of golden thrones. Each man (as he still sup¬ 
posed himself to be) essayed to give a cry of surprise, 
but found that he could merely grunt, and that, in a 
word, he was just such another beast as his compan¬ 
ions. It looked so intolerably absurd to see hogs on 
cushioned thrones, that they made haste to wallow 
down upon all fours, like other swine. They tried to 
groan and beg for mercy, but forthwith emitted the 
most awful grunting and squealing that ever came out 
of swinish throats. They would have wrung their 
hands in despair, but, attempting to do so, grew all 
the more desperate for seeing themselves squatted on 
their hams, and pawing the air with their fore trotters. 
Dear me! what pendulous ears they had ! what little 
red eyes, half buried in fat! and what long snouts, 
instead of Grecian noses J 

But brutes as they certainly were, they yet had 
enough of human nature in them to be shocked at their 
own hideousness ; and, still intending to groan, they 
uttered a viler grunt and squeal than before. So 
harsh and ear-piercing it was, that you would have 
fancied a butcher was sticking his knife into each of 
their throats, or, at the very least, that somebody waa 
pulling every hog by his funny little twist of a tail. 

“ Begone to your sty ! ” cried the enchantress, giv 


CIRCE’S PALACE 327 

mg them some smart strokes with her wand ; and then 
she turned to the serving-men, “ Drive out these swine, 
and throw down some acorns for them to eat.” 

The door of the saloon being flung open, the drove 
of hogs ran in all directions save the right one, in ac 
cordance with their hoggish perversity, but were finally 
driven into the back yard of the palace. It was a 
sight to bring tears into one’s eyes (and I hope none 
of you will be cruel enough to laugh at it), to see the 
poor creatures go snuffing along, picking up here a 
cabbage leaf and there a turnip-top, and rooting their 
noses in the earth for whatever they could find. In 
their sty, moreover, they behaved more piggishly than 
the pigs that had been born so ; for they bit and 
snorted at one another, put their feet in the trough, 
and gobbled up their victuals in a ridiculous hurry ; 
and, when there was nothing more to be had, they 
made a great pile of themselves among some unclean 
straw, and fell fast asleep. If they had any human 
reason left, it was just enough to keep them wondering 
when they should be slaughtered, and what quality of 
bacon they should make. 

Meantime, as I told you before, Eurylochus had 
waited, and waited, and waited, in the entrance-hall 
of the palace, without being able to comprehend what 
had befallen his friends. At last, when the swinish 
uproar resounded through the palace, and when he saw 
the image of a hog in the marble basin, he thought 
it best to hasten back to the vessel, and inform the 
wise Ulysses of these marvellous occurrences. So he 
ran as fast as he could down the steps, and never 
stopped to draw breath till he reached the shore. 

“ Why do you come alone ? ” asked King Ulysses, 
as soon as he saw him. “ Where are your two-and* 
twenty comrades ? ” 


328 Circe’s palace 

At these questions, Eurylochus burst into tears. 

“ Alas! ” cried he, “ I greatly fear that we shall 
never see one of their faces again.” 

Then he told Ulysses all that had happened, as far 
as he knew it, and added that he suspected the beau¬ 
tiful woman to be a vile enchantress, and the marble 
palace, magnificent as it looked, to be only a dismal cav¬ 
ern in reality. As for his companions, he could not 
imagine what had become of them, unless they had 
been given to the swine to be devoured alive. At this 
intelligence all the voyagers were greatly affrighted. 
But Ulysses lost no time in girding on his sword, and 
hanging his bow and quiver over his shoulders, and 
taking a spear in his right hand. When his followers 
saw their wise leader making these preparations, they 
inquired whither he was going, and earnestly besought 
him not to leave them. 

“ You are our king,” cried they; “ and what is 
more, you are the wisest man in the whole world, and 
nothing but your wisdom and courage can get us out 
of this danger. If you desert us, and go to the en 
chanted palace, you will suffer the same fate as our 
poor companions, and not a soul of us will ever see 
our dear Ithaca again.” 

“ As I am your king,” answered Ulysses, “ and 
wiser than any of you, it is therefore the more my duty 
to see what has befallen our comrades, and whethei 
anything can yet be done to rescue them. Wait for 
me here until to-morrow. If I do not then return, 
you must hoist sail, and endeavor to find your way to 
our native land. For my part, I am answerable for 
the fate of these poor mariners, who have stood by 
my side in battle, and been so often drenched to the 
skin, along with me, by the same tempestuous surges, 
X will either bring them back with me or perish.” 


CIRCE’S PALACE 329 

Had his followers dared, they would have detained 
him by force. But King Ulysses frowned sternly on 
them, and shook his spear, and bade them stop him at 
their peril. Seeing him so determined, they let him 
go, and sat down on the sand, as disconsolate a set of 
people as could be, waiting and praying for his ra 
turn. 

It happened to Ulysses, just as before, that, when 
he had gone a few steps from the edge of the cliff, 
the purple bird came fluttering towards him, crying, 
“ Peep, peep, pe — weep ! ” and using all the art it 
could to persuade him to go no farther. 

“ What mean you, little bird ? ” cried Ulysses. 
“ You are arrayed like a king in purple and gold, and 
wear a golden crown upon your head. Is it because I 
too am a king, that you desire so earnestly to speak 
with me ? If you can talk in human language, say 
what you would have me do.” 

“ Peep ! ” answered the purple bird, very dolorously. 
“ Peep, peep, pe — we — ep ! ” 

Certainly there lay some heavy anguish at the little 
bird’s heart; and it was a sorrowful predicament that 
he could not, at least, have the consolation of telling 
what it was. But Ulysses had no time to waste in 
trying to get at the mystery. He therefore quickened 
his pace, and had gone a good way along the pleasant 
wood-path, when there met him a young man of very 
brisk and intelligent aspect, and clad in a rather sin¬ 
gular garb. He wore a short cloak, and a sort of cap 
that seemed to be furnished with a pair of wings; and 
from the lightness of his step, you would have sup¬ 
posed that there might likewise be wings on his feet. 
To enable him to walk still better (for he was always 
on one journey or another), he carried a winged staff, 


330 CIRCE’S PALACE 

around which two serpents were wriggling and twist* 
ing. In short, I have said enough to make you guess 
that it was Quicksilver ; and Ulysses (who knew him 
of old, and had learned a great deal of his wisdom 
from him) recognized him in a moment. 

“ Whither are you going in such a hurry, wise Ulys¬ 
ses ? ” asked Quicksilver. “ Do you not know that 
this island is enchanted ? The wicked enchantress 
(whose name is Circe, the sister of King .ZEetes) 
dwells in the marble palace which you see yonder 
among the trees. By her magic arts, she changes 
every human being into the brute, beast, or fowl whom 
he happens most to resemble.” 

“ That little bird, which met me at the edge of the 
cliff,” exclaimed Ulysses; “ was he a human being 
once ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Quicksilver. “ He was once a 
king, named Picus, and a pretty good sort of a king 
too, only rather too proud of his purple robe, and his 
crown, and the golden chain about his neck ; so he 
was forced to take the shape .of a gaudy-feathered 
bird. The lions, and wolves, and tigers, who will 
come running to meet you, in front of the palace, were 
formerly fierce and cruel men, resembling in their dis¬ 
positions the wild beasts whose forms they now right¬ 
fully wear.” 

“ And my poor companions,” said Ulysses. “ Have 
they undergone a similar change, through the arts of 
this wicked Circe ? ” 

w You well know what gormandizers they were,” 
replied Quicksilver ; and, rogue that he was, he could 
not help laughing at the joke. “ So you will not be 
surprised to hear that they have all taken the shapes 
of swine! If Circe had never done anything worse, 
I really should not think her so very much to blame.” 


CIRCE’S PALACE 331 

44 But can I do nothing to help them ? ” inquired 
Ulysses. 

“ It will require all your wisdom,” said Quicksilver, 
“ and a little of my own into the bargain, to keep your 
royal and sagacious self from being transformed into 
a fox. But do as I bid you; and the matter may end 
better than it has begun.” 

While he was speaking, Quicksilver seemed to be 
in search of something ; he went stooping along the 
ground, and soon laid his hand on a little plant with 
a snow-white flower, which he plucked and smelt of. 
Ulysses had been looking at that very spot only just 
before ; and it appeared to him that the plant had 
burst into full flower the instant when Quicksilver 
touched it with his fingers. 

“ Take this flower, King Ulysses,” said he. “ Guard 
it as you do your eyesight; for I can assure you it is 
exceedingly rare and precious, and you might seek the 
whole earth over without ever finding another like it. 
Keep it in your hand, and smell of it frequently after 
you enter the palace, and while you are talking with 
the enchantress. Especially when she offers you food, 
or a draught of wine out of her goblet, be careful to 
fill your nostrils with the flower’s fragrance. Follow 
these directions, and you may defy her magic arts to 
change you into a fox.” 

Quicksilver then gave him some further advice how 
to behave, and, bidding him be bold and prudent, 
again assured him that, powerful as Circe was, he 
would have a fair prospect of coming safely out of her 
enchanted palace. After listening attentively, Ulysses 
thanked his good friend, and resumed his way. But 
he had taken only a few steps, when, recollecting some 
other questions which he wished to ask, he turned 


332 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


round again, and beheld nobody on the spot where 
Quicksilver had stood; for that winged cap of his, 
and those winged shoes, with the help of the winged 
staff, had carried him quickly out of sight. 

When Ulysses reached the lawn, in front of the pal 
ace, the lions and other savage animals came bound 
ing to meet him, and would have fawned upon him 
and licked his feet. But the wise king struck at them 
with his long spear, and sternly bade them begone out 
of his path; for he knew that they had once been 
bloodthirsty men, and would now tear him limb from 
limb, instead of fawning upon him, could they do the 
mischief that was in their hearts. The wild beasts 
yelped and glared at him, and stood at a distance 
while he ascended the palace steps. 

On entering the hall, Ulysses saw the magic foun¬ 
tain in the centre of it. The up-gushing water had 
now again taken the shape of a man in a long, white, 
fleecy robe, who appeared to be making gestures of 
welcome. The king likewise heard the noise of the 
shuttle in the loom, and the sweet melody of the beau¬ 
tiful woman’s song, and then the pleasant voices of 
herself and the four maidens talking together, with 
peals of merry laughter intermixed. But Ulysses did 
not waste much time in listening to the laughter or 
the song. He leaned his spear against one of the pil¬ 
lars of the hall, and then, after loosening his sword in 
the scabbard, stepped boldly forward, and threw the 
folding-doors wide open. The moment she beheld his 
stately figure standing in the doorway, the beautiful 
woman rose from the loom, and ran to meet him with 
a glad smile throwing its sunshine over her face, and 
both her hands extended. 

“ Welcome, brave stranger I '* cried she. “We were 
expecting you.” 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


333 


And the nymph with the sea-green hair made a 
courtesy down to the ground, and likewise bade him 
welcome ; so did her sister with the bodice of oaken 
bark, and she that sprinkled dew-drops from her fin¬ 
gers’ ends, and the fourth one with some oddity which 
I cannot remember. And Circe, as the beautiful en¬ 
chantress was called (who had deluded so many per¬ 
sons that she did not doubt of being able to delude 
Ulysses, not imagining how wise he was), again ad¬ 
dressed him. 

“Your companions,” said she, “have already been 
received into my palace, and have enjoyed the hospi¬ 
table treatment to which the propriety of their behav¬ 
ior so well entitles them. If such be your pleasure, 
you shall first take some refreshment, and then join 
them in the elegant apartment which they now oc¬ 
cupy. See, I and my maidens have been weaving 
their figures into this piece of tapestry.” 

She pointed to the web of beautifully woven cloth 
in the loom. Circe and the four nymphs must have 
been very diligently at work since the arrival of the 
mariners ; for a great many yards of tapestry had now 
been wrought, in addition to what I before described. 
In this new part, Ulysses saw his two - and - twenty 
friends represented as sitting on cushioned and cano¬ 
pied thrones, greedily devouring dainties and quaffing 
deep draughts of wine. The work had not yet gone 
any further. Oh no, indeed. The enchantress was far 
too cunning to let Ulysses see the mischief which her 
magic arts had since brought upon the gormandizers. 

44 As for yourself, valiant sir,” said Circe, 44 judging 
by the dignity of your aspect, I take you to be nothing 
less than a king. Deign to follow me, and you shah 
be treated as befits your rank.” 


334 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


So Ulysses followed her into the oval saloon, where 
his two-and-twenty comrades had devoured the ban¬ 
quet, which ended so disastrously for themselves. But, 
all this while, he had held the snow-white flower in his 
hand, and had constantly smelt of it while Circe was 
speaking; and as he crossed the threshold of the sa¬ 
loon, he took good care to inhale several long and 
deep snuffs of its fragrance. Instead of two-and- 
twenty thrones, which had before been ranged around 
the wall, there was now only a single throne, in the 
centre of the apartment. But this was surely the 
most magnificent seat that ever a king or an emperor 
reposed himself upon, all made of chased gold, studded 
with precious stones, with a cushion that looked like 
a soft heap of living roses, and overhung by a canopy 
of sunlight which Circe knew how to weave into dra¬ 
pery. The enchantress took Ulysses by the hand, 
and made him sit down upon this dazzling throne. 
Then, clapping her hands, she summoned the chief 
butler. 

“ Bring hither,” said she, “ the goblet that is set 
apart for kings to drink out of. And fill it with the 
same delicious wine which my royal brother, King 
iEetes, praised so highly, when he last visited me with 
my fair daughter Medea. That good and amiable 
child! Were she now here, it would delight her to 
see me offering this wine to my honored guest.” 

But Ulysses, while the butler was gone for the wine, 
held the snow-white flower to his nose. 

“ Is it a wholesome wine ? ” he asked. 

At this the four maidens tittered; whereupon the 
enchantress looked round at them, with an aspect of 
severity. 

“ It is the wholesomest juice that ever was squeezed 


CIRCE’S PALACE 335 

out of the grape,” said she ; “ for, instead of disguis¬ 
ing a man, as other liquor is apt to do, it brings him 
to his true self, and shows him as he ought to be.” 

The chief butler liked nothing better than to see 
people turned into swine, or making any kind of a 
beast of themselves; so he made haste to bring the 
royal goblet, filled with a liquid as bright as gold, and 
which kept sparkling upward, and throwing a sunny 
spray over the brim. But, delightfully as the wine 
looked, it was mingled with the most potent enchant¬ 
ments that Circe knew how to concoct. For every 
drop of the pure grape-juice there were two drops of 
the pure mischief; and the danger of the tiling was, 
that the mischief made it taste all the better. The 
mere smell of the bubbles, which effervesced at the 
brim, was enough to turn a man’s beard into pig’s 
bristles, or make a lion’s claws grow out of his fingers, 
or a fox’s brush behind him. 

“ Drink, my noble guest,” said Circe, smiling as 
she presented him with the goblet. “You will find 
in this draught a solace for all your troubles.” 

King Ulysses took the goblet with his right hand, 
while with his left he held the snow-white flower to his 
nostrils, and drew in so long a breath that his lungs 
were quite filled with its pure and simple fragrance. 
Then, drinking off all the wine, he looked the enchan¬ 
tress calmly in the face. 

“Wretch,” cried Circe, giving him a smart stroke 
with her wand, “ how dare you keep your human shape 
a moment longer ? Take the form of the brute whom 
you most resemble. If a hog, go join your fellow- 
swine in the sty; if a lion, a wolf, a tiger, go howl 
with the wild beasts on the lawn; if a fox, go exercise 
your craft in stealing poultry. Thou hast quaffed off 
my wine, and canst be man no longer.” 


336 


CIRCE’S PALACE 

But, such was the virtue of the snow-white flower, 
instead of wallowing down from his throne in swinish 
shape, or taking any other brutal form, Ulysses looked 
even more manly and king-like than before. He gave 
the magic goblet a toss, and sent it clashing over the 
marble floor, to the farthest end of the saloon. Then, 
drawing his sword, he seized the enchantress by her 
beautiful ringlets, and made a gesture as if he meant 
to strike off her head at one blow. 

“ Wicked Circe,” cried he, in a terrible voice, “ this 
sword shall put an end to thy enchantments. Thou 
shalt die, vile wretch, and do no more mischief in the 
world, by tempting human beings into the vices which 
make beasts of them.” 

The tone and countenance of Ulysses were so awful, 
and his sword gleamed so brightly, and seemed to have 
so intolerably keen an edge, that Circe was almost 
killed by the mere fright, without waiting for a blow. 
The chief butler scrambled out of the saloon, picking 
up the golden goblet as he went; and the enchantress 
and the four maidens fell on their knees, wringing 
their hands, and screaming for mercy. 

“ Spare me ! ” cried Circe, — “ spare me, royal and 
wise Ulysses. For now I know that thou art he of 
whom Quicksilver forewarned me, the most prudent of 
mortals, against whom no enchantments can prevail. 
Thou only couldst have conquered Circe. Spare me, 
wisest of men. I will show thee true hospitality, and 
even give myself to be thy slave, and this magnificent 
palace to be henceforth thy home.” 

The four nymphs, meanwhile, were making a most 
piteous ado ; and especially the ocean-nymph, with the 
sea-green hair, wept a great deal of salt water, and the 
fountain-nymph, besides scattering dew-drops from h§r 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


337 


finger’s ends, nearly melted away into tears. But Ulys- 
ses would not be pacified until Circe had taken a sol¬ 
emn oath to change back his companions, and as many 
others as he should direct, from their present forms of 
beast or bird into their former shapes of men. 

“ On these conditions,” said he, “ I consent to spare 
your life. Otherwise you must die upon the spot.” 

With a drawn sword hanging over her, the enchan¬ 
tress would readily have consented to do as much good 
as she had hitherto done mischief, however little she 
might like such employment. She therefore led Ulys¬ 
ses out of the back entrance of the palace, and showed 
him the swine in their sty. There were about fifty of 
these unclean beasts in the whole herd,; and though 
the greater part were hogs by birth and education, 
there was wonderfully little difference to be seen be¬ 
twixt them and their new brethren who had so recently 
worn the human shape. To speak critically, indeed, 
the latter rather carried the thing to excess, and seemed 
to make it a point to wallow in the miriest part of the 
sty, and otherwise to outdo the original swine in their 
own natural vocation. When men once turn to brutes, 
the trifle of man’s wit that remains in them adds ten¬ 
fold to their brutality. 

The comrades of Ulysses, however, had not quite 
lost the remembrance of having formerly stood erect. 
When he approached the sty, two-and-twenty enormous 
swine separated themselves from the herd, and scam¬ 
pered towards him, with such a chorus of horrible 
squealing as made him clap both hands to his ears. 
And yet they did not seem to know what they wanted, 
nor whether they were merely hungry, or miserable 
from some other cause. It was curious, in the midst 
of their distress, to observe them thrusting their noses 

ypL. jy. 


338 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


into the mire, in quest of something to eat. The 
nymph with the bodice of oaken bark (she was the 
hamadryad of an oak) threw a handful of acorns 
among them ; and the two-and-twenty hogs scrambled 
and fought for the prize, as if they had tasted not so 
much as a noggin of sour milk for a twelvemonth. 

“ These must certainly be my comrades,’’ said Uly& 
ses. “ I recognize their dispositions. They are hardly 
worth the trouble of changing them into the human 
form again. Nevertheless, we will have it done, lest 
their bad example should corrupt the other hogs. Let 
them take their original shapes, therefore, Dame 
Circe, if your skill is equal to the task. It will re¬ 
quire greater magic, I trow, than it did to make swine 
of them.” 

So Circe waved her wand again, and repeated a 
few magic words, at the sound of which the two-and- 
twenty hogs pricked up their pendulous ears. It was 
a wonder to behold how their snouts grew shorter 
and shorter, and their mouths (which they seemed to 
be sorry for, because they could not gobble so expedi¬ 
tiously) smaller and smaller, and how one and another 
began to stand upon his hind legs, and scratch his 
nose with his fore trotters. At first the spectators 
hardly knew whether to call them hogs or men, but by 
and by came to the conclusion that they rather resem¬ 
bled the latter. Finally, there stood the twenty-two 
comrades of Ulysses, looking pretty much the same as 
when they left the vessel. 

You must not imagine, however, that the swinish 
quality had entirely gone out of them. When once it 
fastens itself into a person’s character, it is very diffi¬ 
cult getting rid of it. This was proved by the hama* 
dryad, who, being exceedingly fond of mischief, threw 


CIRCE’S PALACE 339 

another handful of acorns before the twenty-two newly 
restored people ; whereupon down they wallowed, in a 
moment, and gobbled them up in a very shameful way. 
Then, recollecting themselves, they scrambled to their 
feet, and looked more than commonly foolish. 

“ Thanks, noble Ulysses!” they cried. “From 
brute beasts you have restored us to the condition of 
men again.” 

“ Do not put yourselves to the trouble of thanking 
me,” said the wise king. “ I fear I have done but lit¬ 
tle for you.” 

To say the truth, there was a suspicious kind of a 
grunt in their voices, and for a long time afterwards 
they spoke gruffly, and were apt to set up a squeal. 

“It must depend on your own future behavior,” 
added Ulysses, “ whether you do not find your way 
back to the sty.” 

At this moment, the note of a bird sounded from 
the branch of a neighboring tree. 

“ Peep, peep, pe — wee — ep! ” 

It was the purple bird, who, all this while, had been 
sitting over their heads, watching what was going for¬ 
ward, and hoping that Ulysses would remember how 
he had done his utmost to keep him and his followers 
out of harm’s way. Ulysses ordered Circe instantly 
to make a king of this good little fowl, and leave him 
exactly as she found him. Hardly were the words 
spoken, and before the bird had time to utter another 
“Pe — weep,” King Picus leaped down from the 
bough of the tree, as majestic a sovereign as any in 
the world, dressed in a long purple robe and gorgeous 
yellow stockings, with a splendidly wrought collar 
about his neck, and a golden crown upon his head. 
He and King Ulysses exchanged with one another the 


340 


CIRCE’S PALACE 


courtesies which belong to their elevated rank. But 
from that time forth, King Picus was no longer proud 
of his crown and his trappings of royalty, nor of the 
fact of his being a king; he felt himself merely the 
upper servant of his people, and that it must be his 
lifelong labor to make them better and happier. 

As for the lions, tigers, and wolves (though Circe 
would have restored them to their former shapes at his 
slightest word), Ulysses thought it advisable that they 
should remain as they now were, and thus give warn¬ 
ing of their cruel dispositions, instead of going about 
under the guise of men, and pretending to human 
sympathies, while their hearts had the blood-thirstiness 
of wild beasts. So he let them howl as much as they 
liked, but never troubled his head about them. And, 
when everything was settled according to his pleasure, 
he sent to summon the remainder of his comrades, 
whom he had left at the sea-shore. These being ar¬ 
rived, with the prudent Eurylochus at their head, they 
all made themselves comfortable in Circe’s enchanted 
palace, until quite rested and refreshed from the toils 
and hardships of their voyage. 



THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS. 


Mother Ceres was exceedingly fond of her daugh 
ter Proserpina, and seldom let her go alone into the 
fields. But, just at the time when my story begins, 
the good lady was very busy, because she had the care 
of the wheat, and the Indian corn, and the rye and 
barley, and, in short, of the crops of every kind, all 
over the earth; and as the season had thus far been 
uncommonly backward, it was necessary to make the 
harvest ripen more speedily than usual. So she put 
on her turban, made of poppies (a kind of flower 
which she was always noted for wearing), and got 
into her car drawn by a pair of winged dragons, and 
was just ready to set off. 

“ Dear mother,” said Proserpina, “ I shall be very 
lonely while you are away. May I not run down to 
the shore, and ask some of the sea-nymphs to come up 
out of the waves and play with me ? ” 

“ Yes, child,” answered Mother Ceres. “ The sea- 
nymphs are good creatures, and will never lead you 
into any harm. But you must take care not to stray 
away from them, nor go wandering about the fields by 
yourself. Young girls, without their mothers to take 
care of them, are very apt to get into mischief.” 

The child promised to be as prudent as if she were 
a grown-up woman, and, by the time the winged drag¬ 
ons had whirled the car out of sight, she was already 
on the shore, calling to the sea-nymphs to come and 
play with her. They knew Proserpina’s voice, and 




342 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


were not long in showing their glistening faces and 
sea-green hair above the water, at the bottom of which 
was their home. They brought along with them a 
great many beautiful shells; and, sitting down on the 
moist sand, where the surf wave broke over them, they 
busied themselves in making a necklace, which they 
hung round Proserpina’s neck. By way of showing 
her gratitude, the child besought them to go with her 
a little way into the fields, so that they might gather 
abundance of flowers, with which she would make each 
of her kind playmates a wreath. 

“ Oh no, dear Proserpina,” cried the sea-nymphs ; 
“we dare not go with you upon the dry land. We 
are apt to grow faint, unless at every breath we can 
snuff up the salt breeze of the ocean. And don’t you 
see how careful we are to let the surf wave break over 
us every moment or two, so as to keep ourselves com¬ 
fortably moist ? If it were not for that, we should 
soon look like bunches of uprooted sea-weed dried in 
the sun.” 

“ It is a great pity,” said Proserpina. “ But do you 
wait for me here, and I will run and gather my apron 
full of flowers, and be back again before the surf 
wave has broken ten times over you. I long to make 
you some wreaths that shall be as lovely as this neck¬ 
lace of many-colored shells.” 

“We will wait, then,” answered the sea-nymphs. 
“ But while you are gone, we may as well lie down on 
a bank of soft sponge, under the water. The air to¬ 
day is a little too dry for our comfort. But we will 
pop up our heads every few minutes to see if you are 
coming.” 

The young Proserpina ran quickly to a spot where, 
only the day before, she had seen a great many flow 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 343 

ers. These, however, were now a little past their 
bloom; and wishing to give her friends the freshest 
and loveliest blossoms, she strayed farther into the 
fields, and found some that made her scream with de¬ 
light. Never had she met with such exquisite flowers 
before, — violets, so large and fragrant, — roses, with 
BO rich and delicate a blush, — such superb hyacinths 
and such aromatic pinks, — and many others, some of 
which seemed to be of new shapes and colors. Two 
or three times, moreover, she could not help thinking 
that a tuft of most splendid flowers had suddenly 
sprouted out of the earth before her very eyes, as if 
on purpose to tempt her a few steps farther. Proser¬ 
pina’s apron was soon filled and brimming over with 
delightful blossoms. She was on the point of turning 
back in order to rejoin the sea-nymphs, and sit with 
them on the moist sands, all twining wreaths together. 
But, a little farther on, what should she behold ? It 
was a large shrub, completely covered with the most 
magnificent flowers in the world. 

“ The darlings ! ” cried Proserpina; and then she 
thought to herself, 44 1 was looking at that spot only 
a moment ago. How strange it is that I did not see 
the flowers! ” 

The nearer she approached the shrub, the more at¬ 
tractive it looked, until she came quite close to it; and 
then, although its beauty was richer than words can 
tell, she hardly knew whether to like it or not. It 
bore above a hundred flowers of the most brilliant 
hues, and each different from the others, but all hav¬ 
ing a kind of resemblance among themselves, which 
showed them to be sister blossoms. But there was a 
deep, glossy lustre on the leaves of the shrub, and on 
the petals of the flowers, that made Proserpina doubt 


344 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS. 

whether they might not be poisonous. To tell you the 
truth, foolish as it may seem, she was half inclined to 
turn round and run away. 

“ What a silly child I am ! ” thought she, taking 
courage. “ It is really the most beautiful shrub that 
ever sprang out of the earth. I will pull it up by the 
roots, and carry it home, and plant it in my mother’s 
garden.” 

Holding up her apron full of flowers with her left 
hand, Proserpina seized the large shrub with the other, 
and pulled and pulled, but was hardly able to loosen 
the soil about its roots. What a deep-rooted plant it 
was ! Again the girl pulled with all her might, and 
observed that the earth began to stir and crack to 
some distance around the stem. She gave another 
pull, but relaxed her hold, fancying that there was a 
rumbling sound right beneath her feet. Did the roots 
extend down into some enchanted cavern ? Then, 
laughing at herself for so childish a notion, she made 
another effort; up came the shrub, and Proserpina 
staggered back, holding the stem triumphantly in her 
hand, and gazing at the deep hole which its roots had 
left in the soil. 

Much to her astonishment, this hole kept spreading 
wider and wider, and growing deeper and deeper, until 
it really seemed to have no bottom ; and all the while, 
there came a rumbling noise out of its depths, louder 
and louder, and nearer and nearer, and sounding like 
the tramp of horses’ hoofs and the rattling of wheels. 
Too much frightened to run away, she stood straining 
her eyes into this wonderful cavity, and soon saw a 
team of four sable horses, snorting smoke out of their 
nostrils, and tearing their way out of the earth with a 
a plendid golden chariot whirling at their heels. Thej 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 345 

leaped out of the bottomless hole, chariot and all ; and 
there they were, tossing their black manes, flourishing 
their black tails, and curvetting with every one of 
their hoofs off the ground at once, close by the spot 
where Proserpina stood. In the chariot sat the figure 
of a man, richly dressed, with a crown on his head, all 
flaming with diamonds. He was of a noble aspect, 
and rather handsome, but looked sullen and discon¬ 
tented ; and he kept rubbing his eyes and shading 
them with his hand, as if he did not live enough in 
the sunshine to be very fond of its light. 

As soon as this personage saw the affrighted Pro¬ 
serpina, he beckoned her to come a little nearer. 

“ Do not be afraid,” said he, with as cheerful a 
smile as he knew how to put on. “ Come! Will not 
you like to ride a little way with me, in my beautiful 
chariot ? ” 

But Proserpina was so alarmed, that she wished for 
nothing but to get out of his reach. And no wonder. 
The stranger did not look remarkably good-natured, m 
spite of his smile; and as for his voice, its tones were 
deep and stern, and sounded as much like the rum¬ 
bling of an earthquake under ground as anything else. 
As is always the case with children in trouble, Proser¬ 
pina’s first thought was to call for her mother. 

“ Mother, Mother Ceres! ” cried she, all in a trem¬ 
ble. “ Come quickly and save me.” 

But her voice was too faint for her mother to hear. 
Indeed, it is most probable that Ceres was then a thou¬ 
sand miles off, making the corn grow in some far-dis¬ 
tant country. Nor could it have availed her poor 
daughter, even had she been within hearing; for no 
sooner did Proserpina begin to cry out, than the 
stranger leaped to the ground, caught the child in his 


346 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


arms, and again mounting the chariot, shook the reins, 
and shouted to the four black horses to set off. They 
immediately broke into so swift a gallop that it seemed 
rather like flying through the air than running along 
the earth. In a moment, Proserpina lost sight of the 
pleasant vale of Enna, in which she had always dwelt. 
Another instant, and even the summit of Mount .Etna 
had become so blue in the distance, that she could 
scarcely distinguish it from the smoke that gushed out 
of its crater. But still the poor child screamed, and 
scattered her apron full of flowers along the way, and 
left a long cry trailing behind the chariot; and many 
mothers, to whose ears it came, ran quickly to see if 
any mischief had befallen their children. But Mother 
Ceres was a great way off, and could not hear the cry. 

As they rode on, the stranger did his best to soothe 
her. 

“ Why should you be so frightened, my pretty 
child ? ” said he, trying to soften his rough voice. “ I 
promise not to do you any harm. What! You have 
been gathering flowers? Wait till we come to my 
palace, and I will give you a garden full of prettier 
flowers than those, all made of pearls, and diamonds, 
and rubies. Can you guess who I am? They call 
my name Pluto, and I am the king of diamonds and 
all other precious stones. Every atom of the gold 
and silver that lies under the earth belongs to me, to 
say nothing of the copper and iron, and of the coal¬ 
mines, which supply me with abundance of fuel. Do 
you see this splendid crown upon my head ? You may 
have it for a plaything. Oh, we shall be very good 
friends, and you will find me more agreeable than you 
expect, when once we get out of this troublesome sun¬ 
shine.” 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 347 

“ Let me go hom£ I ” cried Proserpina, — “ let me 
go home ! ” 

“ My home is better than your mother’s,” answered 
King Pluto. “ It is a palace, all made of gold, with 
crystal windows ; and because there is little or no 
sunshine thereabouts, the apartments are illuminated 
with diamond lamps. You never saw anything half 
so magnificent as my throne. If you like, you may sit 
down on it, and be my little queen, and I will sit on 
the footstool.” 

“ I don’t care for golden palaces and thrones,” 
sobbed Proserpina. “ Oh, my mother, my mother! 
Carry me back to my mother! ” 

But King Pluto, as he called himself, only shouted 
to his steeds to go faster. 

“ Pray do not be foolish, Proserpina,” said he, in 
rather a sullen tone. “ I offer you my palace and my 
crown, and all the riches that are under the earth ; 
and you treat me as if I were doing you an injury. 
The one thing which my palace needs is a merry little 
maid to run up stairs and down, and cheer up the 
rooms with her smile. And this is what you must do 
for King Pluto.” 

“ Never ! ” answered Proserpina, looking as misera¬ 
ble as she could. “ I shall never smile again till you 
set me down at my mother’s door.” 

But she might just as well have talked to the wind 
that whistled past them ; for Pluto urged on his 
horses, and went faster than ever. Proserpina con¬ 
tinued to cry out, and screamed so long and so loudly, 
that her poor little voice was almost screamed away -• 
and when it was nothing but a whisper, she happened 
to cast her eyes over a great, broad field of waving 
grain — and whom do you think she saw ? Who, 


348 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


but Mother Ceres, making the corn grow, and too busy 
to notice the golden chariot as it went rattling along. 
The child mustered all her strength, and gave one 
more scream, but was out of sight before Ceres had 
time to turn her head. 

King Pluto had taken a road which now began to 
grow excessively gloomy. It was bordered on each 
side with rocks and precipices, between which the 
rumbling of the chariot-wheels was reverberated with 
a noise like rolling thunder. The trees and bushes 
that grew in the crevices of the rocks had very dismal 
foliage ; and by and by, although it was hardly noon, 
the air became obscured with a gray twilight. The 
black horses had rushed along so swiftly, that they 
were already beyond the limits of the sunshine. But 
the duskier it grew, the more did Pluto’s visage as¬ 
sume an air of satisfaction. After all, he was not an 
ill-looking person, especially when he left off twisting 
his features into a smile that did not belong to them. 
Proserpina peeped at his face through the gathering 
dusk, and hoped that he might not be so very wicked 
as she at first thought him. 

“ Ah, this twilight is truly refreshing,” said King 
Pluto, “ after being so tormented with that ugly and 
impertinent glare of the sun. How much more agree¬ 
able is lamplight or torchlight, more particularly when 
reflected from diamonds! It will be a magnificent 
sight when we get to my palace.” 

“ Is it much farther?” asked Proserpina. “And 
will you carry me back when I have seen it ? ” 

“We will talk of that by and by,” answered Pluto. 
* We are just entering my dominions. Do you see 
that tall gateway before us ? When we pass those 
gates, we are at home. And there lies my faithfu/ 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 349 

mastiff at the threshold. Cerberus! Cerberus! Come 
hither, my good dog! ” 

So saying, Pluto pulled at the reins, and stopped 
the chariot right between the tall, massive pillars of 
the gateway. The mastiff of which he had spoken got 
up from the threshold, and stood on his hinder legs, 
so as to put his fore paws on the chariot-wheel. But, 
my stars, what a strange dog it was! Why, he was a 
big, rough, ugly-looking monster, with three separate 
heads, and each of them fiercer than the two others; 
but, fierce as they were, King Pluto patted them all. 
He seemed as fond of his three-headed do£ as if it had 
been a sweet little spaniel, with silken ears and curly 
hair. Cerberus, on the other hand, was evidently re¬ 
joiced to see his master, and expressed his attachment, 
as other dogs do, by wagging his tail at a great rate. 
Proserpina’s eyes being drawn to it by its brisk mo¬ 
tion, she saw that this tail was neither more nor less 
than a live dragon, with fiery eyes, and fangs that had 
a very poisonous aspect. And while the three-headed 
Cerberus was fawning so lovingly on King Pluto, there 
was the dragon tail wagging against its will, and look¬ 
ing as cross and ill-natured as you can imagine, on its 
own separate account. 

“ Will the dog bite me ? ” asked Proserpina, shrink¬ 
ing closer to Pluto. u What an ugly creature he is ! ” 

“ Oh, never fear,” answered her companion. “ He 
never harms people, unless they try to enter my do¬ 
minions without being sent for, or to get away when I 
wish to keep them here. Down Cerberus ! Now, my 
pretty Proserpina, we will drive on.” 

On went the chariot, and King Pluto seemed greatly 
pleased to find himself once more in his own kingdom. 
He drew Proserpina’s attention to the rich veins of 


350 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

gold that were to be seen among the rocks, and 
pointed to several places where one stroke of a pick¬ 
axe would loosen a bushel of diamonds. All along 
the road, indeed, there were sparkling gems, which 
would have been of inestimable value above ground, 
but which were here reckoned of the meaner sort, and 
hardly worth a beggar’s stooping for. 

Not far from the gateway, they came to a bridge, 
which seemed to be built of iron. Pluto stopped the 
chariot, and bade Proserpina look at the stream which 
was gliding so lazily beneath it. Never in her life had 
she beheld so torpid, so black, so muddy - looking a 
stream: its waters reflected no images of anything 
that was on the banks, and it moved as sluggishly as 
if it had quite forgotten which way it ought to flow, 
and had rather stagnate than flow either one way or 
the other. 

“ This is the river Lethe,” observed King Pluto. 
“ Is it not a very pleasant stream ? ” 

“ I think it a very dismal one,” said Proserpina. 

* It suits my taste, however,” answered Pluto, who 
was apt to be sullen when anybody disagreed with 
him. “ At all events, its water has one very excel¬ 
lent quality; for a single draught of it makes people 
forget every care and sorrow that has hitherto tor¬ 
mented them. Only sip a little of it, my dear Proser¬ 
pina, and you will instantly cease to grieve for your 
mother, and will have nothing in your memory that 
can prevent your being perfectly happy in my palace. 
I will send for some, in a golden goblet, the moment 
we arrive.” 

“Oh no, no, no!” cried Proserpina, weeping afresh. 
“ I had a thousand times rather be miserable with re¬ 
membering my mother, than be happy in forgetting 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 351 

her. That dear, dear mother! I never, never will 
forget her.” 

“We shall see,” said King Pluto. “You do not 
know what fine times we will have in my palace. 
Here we are just at the portal. These pillars are 
solid gold, I assure you.” 

He alighted from the chariot, and taking Proserpina 
in his arms, carried her up a lofty flight of steps into 
the great hall of the palace. It was splendidly illu¬ 
minated by means of large precious stones, of various 
hues, which seemed to burn like so many lamps, and 
glowed with a hundred-fold radiance all through the 
vast apartment. And yet there was a kind of gloom 
in the midst of this enchanted light; nor was there a 
single object in the hall that was really agreeable to 
behold, except the little Proserpina herself, a lovely 
child, with one earthly flower which she had not let 
fall from her hand. It is my opinion that even King 
Pluto had never been happy in his palace, and that 
this was the true reason why he had stolen away Pro¬ 
serpina, in order that he might have something to love, 
instead of cheating his heart any longer with this tire¬ 
some magnificence. And, though he pretended to dis¬ 
like the sunshine of the upper world, yet the effect of 
the child’s presence, bedimmed as she was by her 
tears, was as if a faint and watery sunbeam had some¬ 
how or other found its way into the enchanted hall. 

Pluto now summoned his domestics, and bade them 
lose no time in preparing a most sumptuous banquet, 
and above all things, not to fail of setting a golden 
beaker of the water of Lethe by Proserpina’s plate. 

“ I will neither drink that nor anything else,” said 
Proserpina. “ Nor will I taste a morsel of food, even 
if you keep me forever in your palace.” 


352 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


“ I should be sorry for that,” replied King Pluto, 
patting her cheek; for he really wished to be kind, if 
he had only known how. “ You are a spoiled child, I 
perceive, my little Proserpina; but when you see the 
nice things which my cook will make for you, your ap¬ 
petite will quickly come again.” 

Then, sending for the head cook, he gave strict or¬ 
ders that all sorts of delicacies, such as young people 
are usually fond of, should be set before Proserpina. 
He had a secret motive in this; for, you are to under¬ 
stand, it is a fixed law, that, when persons are carried 
off to the land of magic, if they once taste any food 
there, they can never get back to their friends. Now, 
if King Pluto had been cunning enough to offer Pro¬ 
serpina some fruit, or bread and milk (which was the 
simple fare to which the child had always been accus¬ 
tomed), it is very probable that she would soon have 
been tempted to eat it. But he left the matter en¬ 
tirely to his cook, who, like all other cooks, considered 
nothing fit to eat unless it were rich pastry, or highly 
seasoned meat, or spiced sweet cakes, — things which 
Proserpina’s mother had never given her, and the 
smell of which quite took away her appetite, instead 
of sharpening it. 

But my story must now clamber out of King Pluto’s 
dominions, and see what Mother Ceres has been about, 
since she was bereft of her daughter. We had a 
glimpse of her, as you remember, half hidden among 
the waving grain, while the four black steeds were 
swiftly whirling along the chariot in which her beloved 
Proserpina wa<s so unwillingly borne away. You rec¬ 
ollect, too, the loud scream which Proserpina gave, 
just when the chariot was out of sight. 

Of all the child’s outcries, this last shriek was the 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 353 

only one that reached the ears of Mother Ceres. She 
had mistaken the rumbling of the chariot-wheels for a 
peal of thunder, and imagined that a shower was com¬ 
ing up, and that it would assist her in making the 
corn grow. But, at the sound of Proserpina’s shriek, 
she started, and looked about in every direction, not 
knowing whence it came, but feeling almost certain 
that it was her daughter’s voice. It seemed so unac¬ 
countable, however, that the girl should have strayed 
over so many lands and seas (which she herself could 
not have traversed without the aid of her winged drag¬ 
ons), that the good Ceres tried to believe that it must 
be the child of some other parent, and not her own 
darling Proserpina, who had uttered this lamentable 
cry. Nevertheless, it troubled her with a vast many 
tender fears, such as are ready to bestir themselves in 
every mother’s heart, when she finds it necessary to 
go away from her dear children without leaving them 
under the care of some maiden aunt, or other such 
faithful guardian. So she quickly left the field in 
which she had been so busy; and, as her work was not 
half done, the grain looked, next day, as if it needed 
both sun and rain, and as if it were blighted in the 
ear, and had something the matter with its roots. 

The pair of dragons must have had very nimble 
wings ; for, in less than an hour, Mother Ceres had 
alighted at the door of her home, and found it empty. 
Knowing, however, that the child was fond of sporting 
on the sea-shore, she hastened thither as fast as she 
could, and there beheld the wet faces of the poor sea- 
nymphs peeping over a wave. All this while, the good 
creatures had been waiting on the bank of sponge, and, 
once every half-minute or so, had popped up their four 
heads above water, to see if their playmate were yet 
iv* 23 


354 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

coming back. When they saw Mother Ceres, they sat 
down on the crest of the surf wave, and let it toss them 
ashore at her feet. 

44 Where is Proserpina? ” cried Ceres. 44 Where is 
my child ? Tell me, you naughty sea-nymphs, have 
you enticed her under the sea? ” 

44 Oh no, good Mother Ceres,” said the innocent sea- 
nymphs, tossing back their green ringlets, and looking 
her in the face. “We never should dream of such a 
thing. Proserpina has been at play with us, it is true; 
but she left us a long while ago, meaning only to run 
a little way upon the dry land, and gather some 
flowers for a wreath. This was early in the day, and 
we have seen nothing of her since.” 

Ceres scarcely waited to hear what the nymphs had 
to say, before she hurried off to make inquiries all 
through the neighborhood. But nobody told her any¬ 
thing that could enable the poor mother to guess what 
had become of Proserpina. A fisherman, it is true, 
had noticed her little footprints in the sand, as he went 
homeward along the beach with a basket of fish ; a 
rustic had seen the child stooping to gather flowers; 
several persons had heard either the rattling of chariot- 
wheels, or the rumbling of distant thunder; and one 
old woman, while plucking vervain and catnip, had 
heard a scream, but supposed it to be some childish 
nonsense, and therefore did not take the trouble to 
look up. The stupid people! It took them such a 
tedious while to tell the nothing that they knew, that 
it was dark night before Mother Ceres found out that 
she must seek her daughter elsewhere. So she lighted 
a torch, and set forth, resolving never to come back 
until Proserpina was discovered. 

In her haste and trouble of mind, she quite forgot 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 355 

her car and the winged dragons; or, it may be, she 
thought that she could follow up the search more 
thoroughly on foot. At all events, this was the way 
in which she began her sorrowful journey, holding hei 
torch before her, and looking carefully at every object 
along the path. And as it happened, she had not gone 
far before she found one of the magnificent flowers 
which grew on the shrub that Proserpina had pulled 
up. 

“ Ha! ” thought Mother Ceres, examining it by 
torchlight. “ Here is mischief in this flower! The 
earth did not produce it by any help of mine, nor of 
its own accord. It is the work of enchantment, and 
is therefore poisonous; and perhaps it has poisoned 
my poor child.” 

But she put the poisonous flower in her bosom, not 
knowing whether she might ever find any other memo¬ 
rial of Proserpina. 

All night long, at the door of every cottage and 
farm-house, Ceres knocked, and called up the weary 
laborers to inquire if they had seen her child ; and 
they stood, gaping and half asleep, at the threshold, 
and answered her pityingly, and besought her to come 
in and rest. At the portal of every palace, too, she 
made so loud a summons that the menials hurried to 
throw open the gate, thinking that it must be some 
great king or queen, who would demand a banquet for 
supper and a stately chamber to repose in. And when 
they saw only a sad and anxious woman, with a torch 
in her hand and a wreath of withered poppies on her 
head, they spoke rudely, and sometimes threatened to 
set the dogs upon her. But nobody had seen Pro¬ 
serpina, nor could give Mother Ceres the least hint 
which way to seek her. Thus passed the night; and 


356 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

still she continued her search without sitting down to 
rest, or stopping to take food, or even remembering to 
put out the torch; although first the rosy dawn, and 
then the glad light of the morning sun, made its red 
flame look thin and pale. But I wonder what sort of 
stuff this torch was made of; for it burned dimly 
through the day, and, at night, was as bright as ever, 
and never was extinguished by the rain or wind, ir 
all the weary days and nights while Ceres was seeking 
for Proserpina. 

It was not merely of human beings that she asked 
tidings of her daughter. In the woods and by the 
streams, she met creatures of another nature, who 
used, in those old times, to haunt the pleasant and 
solitary places, and were very sociable with persons 
who understood their language and customs, as Mother 
Ceres did. Sometimes, for instance, she tapped with 
her finger against the knotted trunk of a majestic oak; 
and immediately its rude bark would cleave asunder, 
and forth would step a beautiful maiden, who was the 
hamadryad of the oak, dwelling inside of it, and shar¬ 
ing its long life, and rejoicing when its green leaves 
sported with the breeze. But not one of these leafy 
damsels had seen Proserpina. Then, going a little 
farther, Ceres would, perhaps, come to a fountain, 
gushing out of a pebbly hollow in the earth, and 
would dabble with her hand in the water. Behold, up 
through its sandy and pebbly bed, along with the foun¬ 
tain’s gush, a young woman w 1th dripping hair would 
arise, and stand gazing at Mother Ceres, half out of 
the water, and undulating up and down with its ever- 
restless motion. But when the mother asked whether 
her poor lost child had stopped to drink out of the 
fountain, the naiad, with weeping eyes (for these 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 357 

water-nymphs had tears to spare for everybody’s 
grief), would answer, “No! ” in a murmuring voice, 
which was just like the murmur of the stream. 

Often, likewise, she encountered fauns, who looked 
like sunburnt country people, except that they had 
hairy ears, and little horns upon their foreheads, and 
the hinder legs of goats, on which they gambolled 
merrily about the woods and fields. They were a 
frolicsome kind of creature, but grew as sad as their 
cheerful dispositions would allow when Ceres inquired 
for her daughter, and they had no good news to tell. 
But sometimes she came suddenly upon a rude gang 
of satyrs, who had faces like monkeys and horses’ tails 
behind them, and who were generally dancing in a 
very boisterous manner, with shouts of noisy laughter. 
When she stopped to question them, they would only 
laugh the louder, and make new merriment out of the 
lone woman’s distress. How unkind of those ugly 
satyrs ! And once, while crossing a solitary sheep- 
pasture, she saw a personage named Pan, seated at the 
foot of a tall rock, and making music on a shepherd’s 
flute. He, too, had horns, and hairy ears, and goat’s 
feet; but, being acquainted with Mother Ceres, he an¬ 
swered her question as civilly as he knew how, and in¬ 
vited her to taste some milk and honey out of a wooden 
bowl. But neither could Pan tell her what had be¬ 
come of Proserpina, any better than the rest of these 
wild people. 

And thus Mother Ceres went wandering about for 
nine long days and nights, finding no trace of Proser¬ 
pina, unless it were now and then a withered flower; 
and these she picked up and put in her bosom, because 
she fancied that they might have fallen from her poor 
child’s hand. All day she travelled onward through 


358 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

the hot sun ; and at night, again, the flame of the 
*orch would redden and gleam along the pathway, and 
she continued her search by its light, without ever sit¬ 
ting down to rest. 

On the tenth day, she chanced to espy the mouth of 
a cavern, within which (though it was bright noon 
everywhere else) there would have been only a dusky 
twilight; but it so happened that a torch was burn¬ 
ing there. It flickered, and struggled with the duski¬ 
ness, but could not half light up the gloomy cavern 
with all its melancholy glimmer. Ceres was resolved 
to leave no spot without a search ; so she peeped into 
the entrance of the cave, and lighted it up a little 
more, by holding her own torch before her. In so 
doing, she caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a 
woman, sitting on the brown leaves of the last autumn, 
a great heap of which had been swept into the cave by 
the wind. This woman (if woman it were) was by 
no means so beautiful as many of her sex; for her 
head, they tell me, was shaped very much like a dog’s, 
and, by way of ornament, she wore a wreath of snakes 
around it. But Mother Ceres, the moment she saw 
her, knew that this was an odd kind of a person, who 
put all her enjoyment in being miserable, and never 
would have a word to say to other people, unless they 
were as melancholy and wretched as she herself de¬ 
lighted to be. 

“ I am wretched enough now,” thought poor Ceres, 
“ to talk with this melancholy Hecate, were she ten 
times sadder than ever she was yet.” 

So she stepped into the cave, and sat down on the 
withered leaves by the dog-headed woman’s side. In 
all the world, since her daughter’s loss, she had found 
no other companion. 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 359 

“O Hecate,” said she, “if ever you lose a daughter, 
you will know what sorrow is. Tell me, for pity’s 
sake, have you seen my poor child Proserpina pass by 
the mouth of your cavern ? ” 

u No,” answered Hecate, in a cracked voice, and 
sighing betwixt every word or two, — “ no, Mother 
Ceres, I have seen nothing of your daughter. But my 
ears, you must know, are made in such a way that all 
cries of distress and affright, all over the world are 
pretty sure to find their way to them ; and nine days 
ago, as I sat in my cave, making myself very misera¬ 
ble, I heard the voice of a young girl, shrieking as if 
in great distress. Something terrible has happened to 
the child, you may rest assured. As well as I could 
judge, a dragon, or some other cruel monster, was 
carrying her away.” 

“You kill me by saying so,” cried Ceres, almost 
ready to faint. “ Where was the sound, and which 
way did it seem to go ? ” 

“ It passed very swiftly along,” said Hecate, “ and, 
at the same time, there was a heavy rumbling of wheels 
towards the eastward. I can tell you nothing more, 
except that, in my honest opinion, you will never see 
your daughter again. The best advice I can give you 
is, to take up your abode in this cavern, where we will 
be the two most wretched women in the world.” 

“ Not yet, dark Hecate,” replied Ceres. “ But do 
you first come with your torch, and help me to seek 
for my lost child. And when there shall be no more 
hope of finding her (if that black day is ordained to 
come), then, if you will give me room to fling my¬ 
self down, either on these withered leaves or on the 
naked rock, I will show you what it is to be miserable. 
But, until I know that she has perished from the face 


360 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

of the earth, I will not allow myself space even to 
grieve.” 

The dismal Hecate did not much like the idea of 
going abroad into the sunny world. But then she re¬ 
flected that the sorrow of the disconsolate Ceres would 
be like a gloomy twilight round about them both, let 
the sun shine ever so brightly, and that therefore she 
might enjoy her bad spirits quite as well as if she were 
to stay in the cave. So she finally consented to go, 
and they set out together, both carrying torches, al¬ 
though it was broad daylight and clear sunshine. The 
torchlight seemed to make a gloom; so that the peo¬ 
ple whom they met along the road could not very dis¬ 
tinctly see their figures; and, indeed, if they once 
caught a glimpse of Hecate, with the wreath of snakes 
round her forehead, they generally thought it prudent 
to run away, without waiting for a second glance. 

As the pair travelled along in this woe-begone man¬ 
ner, a thought struck Ceres. 

“ There is one person,” she exclaimed, 44 who must 
have seen my poor child, and can doubtless tell what 
has become of her. Why did not I think of him be¬ 
fore ? It is Phoebus.” 

44 What,” said Hecate, 44 the young man that always 
sits in the sunshine ? Oh, pray do not think of going 
near him. He is a gay, light, frivolous young fellow, 
and will only smile in your face. And besides, there 
is such a glare of the sun about him, that he will quite 
blind my poor eyes, which I have almost wept away 
already.” 

44 You have promised to be my companion,” answered 
Ceres. 44 Come, let us make haste, or the sunshine 
will be gone, and Phoebus along with it.” 

Accordingly, they went along in quest of Phoebus, 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 361 

both of them sighing grievously, and Hecate, to say 
the truth, making a great deal worse lamentation than 
Ceres; for all the pleasure she had, you know, lay in 
being miserable, and therefore she made the most of 
it. By and by, after a pretty long journey, they ar- 
rived at the sunniest spot in the whole world. There 
they beheld a beautiful young man, with long, curl¬ 
ing ringlets, which seemed to be made of golden sun¬ 
beams ; his garments were like light summer clouds ; 
and the expression of his face was so exceedingly 
vivid, that Hecate held her hands before her eyes, 
muttering that he ought to wear a black veil. Phoebus 
(for this was the very person whom they were seeking) 
had a lyre in his hands, and was making its chords 
tremble with sweet music; at the same time singing a 
most exquisite song, which he had recently composed. 
For, besides a great many other accomplishments, this 
young man was renowned for his admirable poetry. 

As Ceres and her dismal companion approached 
him, Phoebus smiled on them so cheerfully that Hec¬ 
ate’s wreath of snakes gave a spiteful hiss, and Hec¬ 
ate heartily wished herself back in her cave. But as 
for Ceres, she was too earnest in her grief either to 
know or care whether Phoebus smiled or frowned. 

“ Phoebus! ” exclaimed she, “ I am in great trouble, 
and have come to you for assistance. Can you tell me 
what has become of my dear child Proserpina ? ” 

“ Proserpina ! Proserpina, did you call her name ? ” 
answered Phoebus, endeavoring to recollect; for there 
was such a continual flow of pleasant ideas in his mind 
that he was apt to forget what had happened no longer 
ago than yesterday. “ Ah, yes, I remember her now. 
A very lovely child, indeed. I am happy to tell you, 
my dear madam, that I did see the little Proserpina 


362 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

not many days ago. You may make yourself perfectly 
easy about her. She is safe, and in excellent hands.” 

“ Oh, where is my dear child?” cried Ceres, clasp¬ 
ing her hands and flinging herself at his feet. 

“ Why,” said Phoebus, — and as he spoke, he kept 
touching his lyre so as to make a thread of music run 
in and out among his words, — “ as the little damsel 
was gathering flowers (and she has really a very ex¬ 
quisite taste for flowers) she was suddenly snatched 
up by King Pluto, and carried off to his dominions. 
I have never been in that part of the universe ; but 
the royal palace, I am told, is built in a very noble 
style of architecture, and of the most splendid and 
costly materials. Gold, diamonds, pearls, and all man¬ 
ner of precious stones will be your daughter’s ordi¬ 
nary playthings. I recommend to you, my dear lady, 
to give yourself no uneasiness. Proserpina’s sense of 
beauty will be duly gratified, and, even in spite of the 
lack of sunshine, she will lead a very enviable life.” 

“ Hush ! Say not such a word ! ” answered Ceres, 
indignantly. “What is there to gratify her heart? 
What are all the splendors you speak of, without af¬ 
fection? I must have her back again. Will you go 
with me, Phoebus, to demand my daughter of this 
wicked Pluto ? ” 

“ Pray excuse me,” replied Phoebus, with an ele¬ 
gant obeisance. “ I certainly wish you success, and 
regret that my own affairs are so immediately press¬ 
ing that I cannot have the pleasure of attending you. 
Besides, I am not upon the best of terms with King 
Pluto. To tell you the truth, his three-headed mastiff 
would never let me pass the gateway; for I should be 
compelled to take a sheaf of sunbeams along with me, 
and those, you know, are forbidden things in Pluto’a 
kingdom.” 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 363 

6< Ah, Phoebus,” said Ceres, with bitter meaning in 
her words, “ you have a harp instead of a heart. 
Farewell.” 

“Will not you stay a moment,” asked Phoebus, 
u and hear me turn the pretty and touching story of 
Proserpina into extemporary verses ? ” 

But Ceres shook her head, and hastened away, 
along with Hecate. Phoebus (who, as I have told you, 
was an exquisite poet) forthwith began to make an 
ode about the poor mother’s grief; and, if we were to 
judge of his sensibility by this beautiful production, 
he must have been endowed with a very tender heart. 
But when a poet gets into the habit of using his heart¬ 
strings to make chords for his lyre, he may thrum 
upon them as much as he will, without any great pain 
to himself. Accordingly, though Phoebus sang a very 
sad song, he was as merry all the while as were the 
sunbeams amid which he dwelt. 

Poor Mother Ceres had now found out what had be¬ 
come of her daughter, but was not a whit happier than 
before. Her case, on the contrary, looked more des¬ 
perate than ever. As long as Proserpina was above 
ground there might have been hopes of regaining her. 
But now, that the poor child was shut up within the 
iron gates of the king of the mines, at the threshold 
of which lay the three-headed Cerberus, there seemed 
no possibility of her ever making her escape. The 
dismal Hecate, who loved to take the darkest view of 
things, told Ceres that she had better come with her 
to the cavern, and spend the rest of her life in being 
miserable. Ceres answered that Hecate was welcome 
to go back thither herself, but that, for her part, she 
would wander about the earth in quest of the entrance 
to King Pluto’s dominions. And Hecate took her at 


364 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


her word, and hurried back to her beloved cave 
frightening a great many little children with a glimpse 
of her dog’s face, as she went. 

Poor Mother Ceres ! It is melancholy to think of 
her, pursuing her toilsome way all alone, and holding 
up that never-dying torch, the flame of which seemed 
an emblem of the grief and hope that burned together 
in her heart. So much did she suffer, that, though 
her aspect had been quite youthful when her troubles 
began, she grew to look like an elderly person in a 
very brief time. She cared not how she was dressed, 
nor had she ever thought of flinging away the wreath 
of withered poppies, which she put on the very morn¬ 
ing of Proserpina’s disappearance. She roamed about 
in so wild a way, and with her hair so dishevelled, that 
people took her for some distracted creature, and 
never dreamed that this was Mother Ceres, who had 
the oversight of every seed which the husbandman 
planted. Nowadays, however, she gave herself no 
trouble about seed-time nor harvest, but left the far¬ 
mers to take care of their own affairs, and the crops 
to fade or flourish, as the case might be. There was 
nothing, now, in which Ceres seemed to feel an in¬ 
terest, unless when she saw children at play, or gath¬ 
ering flowers along the wayside. Then, indeed, she 
would stand and gaze at them with tears in her eyes. 
The children, too, appeared to have a sympathy with 
her grief, and would cluster themselves in a little 
group about her knees, and look up wistfully in her 
face; and Ceres, after giving them a kiss all round, 
would lead them to their homes, and advise their 
mothers never to let them stray out of sight. 

“ For if they do,” said she, “ it may happen to you, 
as it has to me, that the iron-hearted King Pluto will 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 365 

take a liking to your darlings, and snatch them up in 
his chariot, and carry them away.” 

One day, during her pilgrimage in quest of the en¬ 
trance to Pluto’s kingdom, she came to the palace of 
King Celeus, who reigned at Eleusis. Ascending a 
lofty flight of steps, she entered the portal, and found 
the royal household in very great alarm about the 
queen’s baby. The infant, it seems, was sickly (being 
troubled with its teeth, I suppose), and would take no 
food, and was all the time moaning with pain. The 
queen — her name was Metanira — was desirous of 
finding a nurse ; and when she beheld a woman of 
matronly aspect coming up the palace steps, she 
thought, in her own mind, that here was the very per¬ 
son whom she needed. So Queen Metanira ran to 
the door, with the poor wailing baby in her arms, and 
besought Ceres to take charge of it, or, at least, to 
tell her what would do it good. 

“Will you trust the child entirely to me ? ” asked 
Ceres. 

“ Yes, and gladly too,” answered the queen, “ if you 
.will devote all your time to him. For I can see that 
yrou have been a mother.” 

“You are right,” said Ceres. “I once had a child 
of my own. Well; I will be the nurse of this poor, 
sickly boy. But beware, I warn you, that you do not 
interfere with any kind of treatment which I may 
judge proper for him. If you do so, the poor infant 
must suffer for his mother’s folly.” 

Then she kissed the child, and it seemed to do him 
good ; for he smiled and nestled closely into her bo¬ 
som. 

So Mother Ceres set her torch in a corner (where 
it kept burning all the while), and took up her abode 


366 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


in the palace of King Celeus, as nurse to the little 
Prince Demophoon. She treated him as if he were 
her own child, and allowed neither the king nor the 
queen to say whether he should he bathed in warm or 
cold water, or what he should eat, or how often he 
should take the air, or when he should be put to bed. 
You would hardly believe me, if I were to tell how 
quickly the baby prince got rid of his ailments, and 
grew fat, and rosy, and strong, and how he had two 
rows of ivory teeth in less time than any other little 
fellow, before or since. Instead of the palest, and 
wretchedest, and puniest imp in the world (as his own 
mother confessed him to be when Ceres first took him 
in charge), he was now a strapping baby, crowing, 
laughing, kicking up his heels, and rolling from one 
end of the room to the other. All the good women of 
the neighborhood crowded to the palace, and held up 
their hands, in unutterable amazement, at the beauty 
and wholesomeness of this darling little prince. 
Their wonder was the greater, because he was never 
seen to taste any food ; not even so much as a cup 
of milk. 

“ Pray, nurse,” the queen kept saying, “ how is it 
that you make the child thrive so ? ” 

“ I was a mother once,” Ceres always replied; “ and 
having nursed my own child, I know what other chil¬ 
dren need.” 

But Queen Metanira, as was very natural, had a 
great curiosity to know precisely what the nurse did 
to her child. One night, therefore, she hid herself in 
the chamber where Ceres and the little prince were 
accustomed to sleep. There was a fire in the chimney, 
and it had now crumbled into great coals and embers, 
which lay glowing on the hearth, with a blaze flicker 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 367 


ing up now and then, and flinging a warm and ruddy 
light upon the walls. Ceres sat before the hearth with 
die child in her lap, and the firelight making her 
shadow dance upon the ceiling overhead. She un¬ 
dressed the little prince, and bathed him all over with 
some fragrant liquid out of a vase. The next thing 
she did was to rake back the red embers, and make a 
hollow place among them, just where the backlog had 
been. At last, while the baby was crowing, and clap-* 
ping its fat little hands, and laughing in the nurse’s 
face (just as you may have seen your little brother or 
sister do before going into its warm bath), Ceres sud¬ 
denly laid him, all naked as he was, in the hollow 
among the red-hot embers. She then raked the ashes 
over him, and turned quietly away. 

You may imagine, if you can, how Queen Metanira 
shrieked, thinking nothing less than that her dear 
child would be burned to a cinder. She burst forth 
from her hiding-place, and running to the hearth, 
raked open the fire, and snatched up poor little Prince 
Demophoon out of his bed of live coals, one of which 
he was griping in each of his fists. He immediately 
set up a grievous cry, as babies are apt to do when 
rudely startled out of a sound sleep. To the queen’s 
astonishment and joy, she could perceive no token of 
the child’s being injured by the hot fire in which he 
had lain. She now turned to Mother Ceres, and asked 
her to explain the mystery. 

“ Foolish woman,” answered Ceres, “ did you not 
promise to intrust this poor infant entirely to me? 
You little know the mischief you have done him. Had 
you left him to my care, he would have grown up like 
a child of celestial birth, endowed with superhuman 
strength and intelligence, and would have lived for- 


368 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


ever. Do you imagine that earthly children are to be 
come immortal without being tempered to it in the 
fiercest heat of the fire ? But you have ruined your 
own son. For though he will be a strong man and a 
hero in his day, yet, on account of your folly, he will 
grow old, and finally die, like the sons of other women. 
The weak tenderness of his mother has cost the poor 
boy an immortality. Farewell.” 

Saying these words, she kissed the little prince De- 
mophoon, and sighed to think what he had lost, and 
took her departure without heeding Queen Metanira, 
who entreated her to remain, and cover up the child 
among the hot embers as often as she pleased. Poor 
baby! He never slept so warmly again. 

While she dwelt in the king’s palace, Mother Ceres 
had been so continually occupied with taking care of 
the young prince, that her heart was a little lightened 
of its grief for Proserpina. But now, having nothing 
else to busy herself about, she became just as wretched 
as before. At length, in her despair, she came to the 
dreadful resolution that not a stalk of grain, nor a 
blade of grass, not a potato, nor a turnip, nor any 
other vegetable that was good for man or beast to eat, 
should be suffered to grow until her daughter were re¬ 
stored. She even forbade the flowers to bloom, lest 
somebody’s heart should be cheered by their beauty. 

Now, as not so much as a head of asparagus ever 
presumed to poke itself out of the ground, without the 
especial permission of Ceres, you may conceive what 
a terrible calamity had here fallen upon the earth. 
The husbandmen ploughed and planted as usual; but 
there lay the rich black furrows, all as barren as a 
desert of sand. The pastures looked as brown in the 
sweet month of June as ever they did in chill Novem 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 369 

her. The rich man’s broad acres and the cottager’s 
small garden-patch were equally blighted. Every little 
girl’s flower-bed showed nothing but dry stalks. The 
old people shook their white heads, and said that the 
earth had grown aged like themselves, and was no 
longer capable of wearing the warm smile of summer 
on its face. It was really piteous to see the poor, 
starving cattle and sheep, how they followed behind 
Ceres, lowing and bleating, as if their instinct taught 
them to expect help from her; and everybody that 
was acquainted with her power besought her to have 
mercy on the human race, and, at all events, to let the 
grass grow. But Mother Ceres, though naturally of 
an affectionate disposition, was now inexorable. 

“ Never,” said she. “ If the earth is ever again to 
see any verdure, it must first grow along the path 
which my daughter will tread in coming back to me.” 

Finally, as there seemed to be no other remedy, our 
old friend Quicksilver was sent post haste to King 
Pluto, in hopes that he might be persuaded to undo 
the mischief he had done, and to set everything right 
again, by giving up Proserpina. Quicksilver accord¬ 
ingly made the best of his way to the great gate, took 
a flying leap right over the three-headed mastiff, and 
stood at the door of the palace in an inconceivably 
short time. The servants knew him both by his face 
and garb ; for his short cloak, and his winged cap and 
shoes, and his snaky staff had often been seen there¬ 
abouts in times gone by. He requested to be shown 
immediately into the king’s presence ; and Pluto, who 
heard his voice from the top of the stairs, and who 
loved to recreate himself with Quicksilver’s merry talk, 
called out to him to come up. And while they settle 

VOL. IV. 24 


370 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

their business together, we must inquire what Proser¬ 
pina has been doing ever since we saw her last. 

The child had declared, as you may remember, that 
she would not taste a mouthful of food as long as she 
should be compelled to remain in King Pluto’s palace. 
How she contrived to maintain her resolution, and at 
the same time to keep herself tolerably plump and 
rosy, is more than I can explain; but some young la¬ 
dies, I am given to understand, possess the faculty of 
living on air, and Proserpina seems to have possessed 
it too. At any rate, it was now six months since she 
left the outside of the earth ; and not a morsel, so far 
as the attendants were able to testify, had yet passed 
between her teeth. This was the more creditable to 
Proserpina, inasmuch as King Pluto had caused her to 
be tempted day after day, with all manner of sweet¬ 
meats, and richly preserved fruits, and delicacies of 
every sort, such as young people are generally most 
fond of. But her good mother had often told her of 
the hurtfulness of these things ; and for that reason 
alone, if there had been no other, she would have reso¬ 
lutely refused to taste them. 

All this time, being of a cheerful and active disposi¬ 
tion, the little damsel was not quite so unhappy as you 
may have supposed. The immense palace had a thou¬ 
sand rooms, and was full of beautiful and wonderful 
objects. There was a never-ceasing gloom, it is true, 
which half hid itself among the innumerable pillars, 
gliding before the child as she wandered among them, 
and treading stealthily behind her in the echo of her 
footsteps. Neither was all the dazzle of the precious 
stones, which flamed with their own light, worth one 
gleam of natural sunshine; nor could the most brill¬ 
iant of the many-colored gems, which Proserpina had 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 371 

for playthings, vie with the simple beauty of the flowers 
she used to gather. But still, wherever the girl went, 
among those gilded halls and chambers, it seemed as 
if she carried nature and sunshine along with her, and 
as if she scattered dewy blossoms on her right hand 
and on her left. After Proserpina came, the palace 
was no longer the same abode of stately artifice and 
dismal magnificence that it had before been. The in¬ 
habitants all felt this, and King Pluto more than any 
of them. 

“ My own little Proserpina,” he used to say, “ I 
wish you could like me a little better. We gloomy 
and cloudy-natured persons have often as warm hearts 
at bottom, as those of a more cheerful character. If 
you would only stay with me of your own accord, it 
would make me happier than the possession of a hun¬ 
dred such palaces as this.” 

“ Ah,” said Proserpina, “ you should have tried to 
make me like you before carrying me off. And the 
best thing you can do now is, to let me go again. 
Then I might remember you sometimes, and think 
that you were as kind as you knew how to be. Per¬ 
haps, too, one day or other, I might come back, and 
pay you a visit.” 

“ No, no,” answered Pluto, with his gloomy smile, 
“ I will not trust you for that. You are too fond of 
living in the broad daylight, and gathering flowers. 
What an idle and childish taste that is! Are not 
these gems, which I have ordered to be dug for you, 
and which are richer than any in my crown,—are 
they not prettier than a violet ? ” 

“Not half so pretty,” said Proserpina, snatching the 
gems from Pluto’s hand, and flinging them to the 
other end of the hall. “ Oh my sweet violets, shall I 
never see you again ? ” 


372 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

And then she burst into tears. But young people’s 
tears have very little saltness or acidity in them, and 
do not inflame the eyes so much as those of grown 
persons; so that it is not to be wondered at if, a few 
moments afterwards, Proserpina was sporting through 
the hall almost as merrily as she and the four sea- 
nymphs had sported along the edge of the surf wave. 
King Pluto gazed after her, and wished that he, too, 
was a child. And little Proserpina, when she turned 
about, and beheld this great king standing in his 
splendid hall, and looking so grand, and so melan¬ 
choly, and so lonesome, was smitten with a kind of 
pity. She ran back to him, and, for the first time in 
all her life, put her small soft hand in his. 

“ I love you a little,” whispered she, looking up in 
his face. 

“ Do you, indeed, my dear child ? ” cried Pluto, 
bending his dark face down to kiss her; but Proser¬ 
pina shrank away from the kiss, for though his fea¬ 
tures were noble, they were very dusky and grim. 
“Well, I have not deserved it of you, after keeping 
you a prisoner for so many months, and starving you, 
besides. Are you not terribly hungry ? Is there 
nothing which I can get you to eat ? ” 

In asking this question, the king of the mines had a 
very cunning purpose ; for, you will recollect, if Pro¬ 
serpina tasted a morsel of food in his dominions, she 
would never afterwards be at liberty to quit them. 

“No, indeed,” said Proserpina. “Your head cook 
is always baking, and stewing, and roasting, and roll¬ 
ing out paste, and contriving one dish or another, 
which he imagines may be to my liking. But he 
might just as well save himself the trouble, poor, fat 
little man that he is. I have no appetite for anything 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 373 

in the world, unless it were a slice of bread of my 
mother’s own baking, or a little fruit out of her 
garden.” 

When Pluto heard this, he began to see that he had 
mistaken the best method of tempting Proserpina to 
eat. The cook’s made dishes and artificial dainties 
were not half so delicious, in the good child’s opinion, 
as the simple fare to which Mother Ceres had accus¬ 
tomed her. Wondering that he had never thought of 
it before, the king now sent one of his trusty attend¬ 
ants, with a large basket, to get some of the finest and 
juiciest pears, peaches, and plums which could any¬ 
where be found in the upper world. Unfortunately, 
however, this was during the time when Ceres had 
forbidden any fruits or vegetables to grow; and, after 
seeking all over the earth, King Pluto’s servant found 
only a single pomegranate, and that so dried up as to 
be not worth eating. Nevertheless, since there was no 
better to be had, he brought this dry, old, withered 
pomegranate home to the palace, put it on a magnifi¬ 
cent golden salver, and carried it up to Proserpina. 
Now it happened, curiously enough, that, just as the 
servant was bringing the pomegranate into the back 
door of the palace, our friend Quicksilver had gone up 
the front steps, on his errand to get Proserpina away 
from King Pluto. 

As soon as Proserpina saw the pomegranate on the 
golden salver, she told the servant he had better take 
it away again. 

“I shall not touch it, I assure you,” said she. “If 
I were ever so hungry, I should never think of eating 
fcuch a miserable, dry pomegranate as that.” 

“ It is the only one in the world,” said the servant. 

He set dowu the golden salver, with the wizened 


374 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

pomegranate upon it, and left the room. When he 
was gone, Proserpina could not help coming close to 
the table, and looking at this poor specimen of dried 
fruit with a great deal of eagerness; for, to say the 
truth, on seeing something that suited her taste, she 
felt all the six months’ appetite taking possession of 
her at once. To be sure, it was a very wretched-look- 
mg pomegranate, and seemed to have no more juice in 
it than an oyster-shell. But there was no choice of 
such things in King Pluto’s palace. This was the 
first fruit she had seen there, and the last she was ever 
likely to see; and unless she ate it up immediately, it 
would grow drier than it already was, and be wholly 
unfit to eat. 

“ At least, I may smell it,” thought Proserpina. 

So she took up the pomegranate, and applied it to 
her nose; and, somehow or other, being in such close 
neighborhood to her mouth, the fruit found its way 
into that little red cave. Dear me! what an everlast¬ 
ing pity! Before Proserpina knew what she was 
about, her teeth had actually bitten it, of their own 
accord. Just as this fatal deed was done, the door of 
the apartment opened, and in came King Pluto, fol¬ 
lowed by Quicksilver, who had been urging him to 
let his little prisoner go. At the first noise of their 
entrance, Proserpina withdrew the pomegranate from 
her mouth. But Quicksilver (whose eyes were very 
keen, and his wits the sharpest that ever anybody 
had) perceived that the child was a little confused; 
and seeing the empty salver, he suspected that she had 
been taking a sly nibble of something or other. As 
for honest Pluto, he never guessed at the secret. 

“ My little Proserpina,” said the king, sitting down, 
and affectionately drawing her between his knees. 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 375 


u here is Quicksilver, who tells me that a great many 
misfortunes have befallen innocent people on account 
of my detaining you in my dominions. To confess 
the truth, I myself had already reflected that it was 
an unjustifiable act to take you away from your good 
mother. But, then, you must consider, my dear child, 
that this vast palace is apt to be gloomy (although the 
precious stones certainly shine very bright), and that 
I am not of the most cheerful disposition, and that 
therefore it was a natural thing enough to seek for the 
society of some merrier creature than myself. I hoped 
you would take my crown for a plaything, and me — 
ah, you laugh, naughty Proserpina — me, grim as I 
am, for a playmate. It was a silly expectation.” 

“ Not so extremely silly,” whispered Proserpina. 
“ You have really amused me very much, sometimes.” 

“ Thank you,” said King Pluto, rather dryly. “ But 
I can see, plainly enough, that you think my palace a 
dusky prison, and me the iron-hearted keeper of it. 
And an iron heart I should surely have, if I could 
detain you here any longer, my poor child, when it is 
now six months since you tasted food. I give you 
your liberty. Go with Quicksilver. Hasten home to 
your dear mother.” 

Now, although you may not have supposed it, Pro¬ 
serpina found it impossible to take leave of poor King 
Pluto without some regrets, and a good deal of com¬ 
punction for not telling him about the pomegranate. 
She even shed a tear or two, thinking how lonely and 
cheerless the great palace would seem to him, with all 
its ugly glare of artificial light, after she herself, —his 
one little ray of natural sunshine, whom he had stolen, 
to be sure, but only because he valued her so much, — 
after she should have departed. I know not how T 


376 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 

many kind things she might have said to the discon¬ 
solate king of the mines, had not Quicksilver hurried 
her away. 

44 Come along quickly,” whispered he in her ear,“or 
his Majesty may change his royal mind. And take 
care, above all things, that you say nothing of what 
was brought you on the golden salver.” 

In a very short time, they had passed the great 
gate-way (leaving the three-headed Cerberus, barking, 
and yelping, and growling, with threefold din, behind 
them), and emerged upon the surface of the earth. 
It was delightful to behold, as Proserpina hastened 
along, how the path grew verdant behind and on 
either side of her. Wherever she set her blessed foot, 
there was at once a dewy flower. The violets gushed 
up along the wayside. The grass and the grain began 
to sprout with tenfold vigor and luxuriance, to make 
up for the dreary months that had been wasted in bar¬ 
renness. The starved cattle immediately set to work 
grazing, after their long fast, and ate enormously all 
day, and got up at midnight to eat more. But I can 
assure you it was a busy time of year with the farmers, 
when they found the summer coming upon them with 
such a rush. Nor must I forget to say that all the 
birds in the whole world hopped about upon the newly 
blossoming trees, and sang together in a prodigious 
ecstasy of joy. 

Mother Ceres had returned to her deserted home, 
and was sitting disconsolately on the doorstep, with 
her torch burning in her hand. She had been idly 
watching the flame for some moments past, when, all 
at once, it flickered and went out. 

44 What does this mean ? ” thought she. 44 It was 
an enchanted torch, and should have kept burning till 
my child came back.” 


THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 377 

Lifting her eyes, she was surprised to see a sudden 
verdure flashing over the brown and barren fields, ex¬ 
actly as you may have observed a golden hue gleam¬ 
ing far and wide across the landscape, from the just 
risen sun. 

“ Does the earth disobey me ? ” exclaimed Mother 
Ceres, indignantly. “ Does it presume to be green, 
when I have bidden it be barren, until my daughter 
shall be restored to my arms ? ” 

“ Then open your arms, dear mother,” cried a well- 
known voice, “ and take your little daughter into 
them.” 

And Proserpina came running, and flung herself 
upon her mother’s bosom. Their mutual transport is 
not to be described. The grief of their separation had 
caused both of them to shed a great many tears ; and 
now they shed a great many more, because their joy 
could not so well express itself in any other way. 

When their hearts had grown a little more quiet, 
Mother Ceres looked anxiously at Proserpina. 

“ My child,” said she, “ did you taste any food while 
you were in King Pluto’s palace ? ” 

“Dearest mother,” answered Proserpina, “I will 
tell you the whole truth. Until this very morning, 
not a morsel of food had passed my lips. But to-day, 
they brought me a pomegranate (a very dry one it 
was, and all shrivelled up, till there was little left of 
it but seeds and skin), and having seen no fruit for so 
long a time, and being faint with hunger, I was tempted 
just to bite it. The instant I tasted it, King Pluto 
and Quicksilver came into the room. I had not swal¬ 
lowed a morsel; but — dear mother, I hope it was no 
harm — but six of the pomegranate seeds, I am afraid, 
remained in my mouth.” 


378 THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS 


“ Ah, unfortunate child, and miserable me! ” ex¬ 
claimed Ceres. “ For each of those six pomegranate 
seeds you must spend one month of every year in King 
Pluto’s palace. You are but half restored to your 
mother. Only six months with me, and six with that 
good-for-nothing King of Darkness ! ” 

“ Do not speak so harshly of poor King Pluto,” said 
Proserpina, kissing her mother. “He has some very 
good qualities ; and I really think I can bear to spend 
six months in his palace, if he will only let me spend 
the other six with you. He certainly did very wrong 
to carry me off; but then, as he says, it was but a 
dismal sort of life for him, to live in that great 
gloomy place, all alone ; and it has made a wonderful 
change in his spirits to have a little girl to run up 
stairs and down. There is some comfort in making 
him so happy; and so, upon the whole, dearest mother, 
let us be thankful that he is not to keep me the whole 
year round.’ 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE. 


When Jason, the son of the dethroned King of 
lolchos, was a little boy, he was sent away from his 
parents, and placed under the queerest schoolmaster 
that ever you heard of. This learned person was one 
of the people, or quadrupeds, called Centaurs. He 
lived in a cavern, and had the body and legs of a 
white horse, with the head and shoulders of a man. 
His name was Chiron ; and, in spite of his odd ap¬ 
pearance, he was a very excellent teacher, and had 
several scholars, who afterwards did him credit by 
making a great figure in the world. The famous Her¬ 
cules was one, and so was Achilles, and Philoctetes, 
likewise, and Aesculapius, who acquired immense re¬ 
pute as a doctor. The good Chiron taught his pupils 
how to play upon the harp, and how to cure diseases, 
and how to use the sword and shield, together with va¬ 
rious other branches of education, in which the lads 
of those days used to be instructed, instead of writing 
and arithmetic. 

I have sometimes suspected that Master Chiron was 
not really very different from other people, but that, 
being a kind-hearted and merry old fellow, he was in 
the habit of making believe that he was a horse, and 
scrambling about the school-room on all fours, and let¬ 
ting the little boys ride upon his back. And so, when 
his scholars had grown up, and grown old, and were 
trotting their grandchildren on their knees, they told 
them about the sports of their school-days ; and these 















380 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


young folks took the idea that their grandfathers had 
been taught their letters by a Centaur, half man and 
half horse. Little children, not quite understanding 
what is said to them, often get such absurd notions 
into their heads, you know. 

Be that as it may, it has always been told for a fact 
(and always will be told, as long as the world lasts), 
that Chiron, with the head of a schoolmaster, had the 
body and legs of a horse. Just imagine the grave old 
gentleman clattering and stamping into the school¬ 
room on his four hoofs, perhaps treading on some lit¬ 
tle fellow’s toes, flourishing his switch tail instead of a 
rod, and, now and then, trotting out of doors to eat a 
mouthful of grass ! I wonder what the blacksmith 
charged him for a set of iron shoes. 

So Jason dwelt in the cave, with this four-footed 
Chiron, from the time that he was an infant, only a 
few months old, until he had grown to the full height 
of a man. He became a very good harper, I suppose, 
and skilful in the use of weapons, and tolerably ac¬ 
quainted with herbs and other doctor’s stuff, and, above 
all, an admirable horseman; for, in teaching young 
people to ride, the good Chiron must have been without 
a rival among schoolmasters. At length, being now a 
tall and athletic youth, Jason resolved to seek his 
fortune in the world, without asking Chiron’s advice, 
or telling him anything about the matter. This was 
very unwise, to be sure; and I hope none of you, my 
little hearers, will ever follow Jason’s example. But, 
you are to understand, he had heard how that he him¬ 
self was a prince royal, and how his father, King 
iEson, had been deprived of the kingdom of Iolchos 
by a certain Pelias, who would also have killed Jason, 
had he not been hidden in the Centaur’s cave. And, 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


381 


being come to the strength of a man, Jason deter¬ 
mined to set all this business to rights, and to punish 
the wicked Pelias for wronging his dear father, and 
to cast him down from the throne, and seat himself 
there instead. 

With this intention, he took a spear in each hand, 
and threw a leopard’s skin over his shoulders, to keej 
off the rain, and set forth on his travels, with his long 
yellow ringlets waving in the wind. The part of his 
dress on which he most prided himself was a pair o* 
sandals, that had been his father’s. They were hand¬ 
somely embroidered, and were tied upon his feet with 
strings of gold. But his whole attire was such as peo¬ 
ple did not very often see ; and as he passed along, 
the women and children ran to the doors and windows, 
wondering whither this beautiful youth was journey¬ 
ing, with his leopard’s skin and his golden-tied san¬ 
dals, and what heroic deeds he meant to perform, with 
a spear in his right hand and another in his left. 

I know not how far Jason had travelled, when he 
came to a turbulent river, which rushed right across 
his pathway, with specks of white foam among its 
black eddies, hurrying tumultuously onward, and roar¬ 
ing angrily as it went. Though not a very broad river 
in the dry seasons of the year, it was now swollen by 
heavy rains and by the melting of the snow on the 
sides of Mount Olympus ; and it thundered so loudly, 
and looked so wild and dangerous, that Jason, bold as 
he was, thought it prudent to pause upon the brink. 
The bed of the stream seemed to be strewn with sharp 
and rugged rocks, some of which thrust themselves 
above the water. By and by, an uprooted tree, with 
shattered branches, came drifting along the current, 
and got entangled among the rocks. Now and then, 


382 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

a drowned sheep, and once the carcass of a cow, 
floated past. 

In short, the swollen river had already done a great 
deal of mischief. It was evidently too deep for Jason 
to wade, and too boisterous for him to swim ; he could 
see no bridge ; and as for a boat, had there been any, 
the rocks would have broken it to pieces in an instant. 

“ See the poor lad,” said a cracked voice close to 
his side. “ He must have had but a poor education, 
since he does not know how to cross a little stream 
like this. Or is he afraid of wetting his fine golden¬ 
stringed sandals ? It is a pity his four-footed school¬ 
master is not here to carry him safely across on his 
back! ” 

Jason looked round greatly surprised, for he did 
not know that anybody was near. But beside him 
stood an old woman, with a ragged mantle over her 
head, leaning on a staff, the top of which was carved 
into the shape of a cuckoo. She looked very aged, 
and wrinkled, and infirm ; and yet her eyes, which 
were as brown as those of an ox, were so extremely 
large and beautiful, that, when they were fixed on 
Jason’s eyes, he could see nothing else but them. The 
old woman had a pomegranate in her hand, although 
the fruit was then quite out of season. 

“ Whither are you going, Jason? ” she now asked. 

She seemed to know his name, you will observe; 
and, indeed, those great brown eyes looked as if they 
had a knowledge of everything, whether past or to 
come. While Jason was gazing at her, a peacock 
strutted forward and took his stand at the old woman’s 
side. 

“ I am going to Iolchos,” answered the young man, 
“ to bid the wicked King Pelias come down from my 
father’s throne, and let me reign in his stead.” 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


383 


64 Ah, well, then,” said the old woman, still with the 
same cracked voice, 44 if that is all your business, you 
need not be in a very great hurry. Just take me on 
your back, there ? s a good youth, and carry me across 
the river. I and my peacock have something to do on 
the other side, as well as yourself.” 

“ Good mother,” replied Jason, “ your business can 
hardly be so important as the pulling down a king 
from his throne. Besides, as you may see for your¬ 
self, the river is very boisterous; and if I should 
chance to stumble, it would sweep both of us away 
more easily than it has carried off yonder uprooted 
tree. I would gladly help you if I could ; but I doubt 
whether I am strong enough to carry you across.” 

44 Then,” said she, very scornfully, 44 neither are you 
strong enough to pull King Pelias off his throne. 
And, Jason, unless you will help an old woman at her 
need, you ought not to be a king. What are kings 
made for, save to succor the feeble and distressed? 
But do as you please. Either take me on your back, 
or with my poor old limbs I shall try my best to 
struggle across the stream.” 

Saying this, the old woman poked with her staff in 
the river, as if to find the safest place in its rocky bed 
where she might make the first step. But Jason, by 
this time, had grown ashamed of his reluctance to help 
ner. He felt that he could never forgive himself, if 
this poor feeble creature should come to any harm in 
attempting to wrestle against the headlong current. 
The good Chiron, whether half horse or no, bad 
taught him that the noblest use of his strength was to 
assist the weak; and also that he must treat every 
young woman as if she were his sister, and every old 
one like a mother, Remembering these maxims, the 


384 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


vigorous and beautiful young man knelt down, and re¬ 
quested the good dame to mount upon his back. 

“ The passage seems to me not very safe,” he re¬ 
marked. “ But as your business is so urgent, I will 
try to carry you across. If the river sweeps you 
away, it shall take me too.” 

“ That, no doubt, will be a great comfort to both of 
us,” quoth the old woman. “ But never fear. We 
shall get safely across.” 

So she threw her arms around Jason’s neck ; and 
lifting her from the ground, he stepped boldly into the 
raging and foamy current, and began to stagger away 
from the shore. As for the peacock, it alighted on 
the old dame’s shoulder. Jason’s two spears, one in 
each hand, kept him from stumbling, and enabled him 
to feel his way among the hidden rocks ; although, 
every instant, he expected that his companion and 
himself would go down the stream, together with the 
drift-wood of shattered trees, and the carcasses of the 
sheep and cow. Down came the cold, snowy torrent 
from the steep side of Olympus, raging and thunder¬ 
ing as if it had a real spite against Jason, or, at all 
events, were determined to snatch off his living bur¬ 
den from his shoulders. When he was half-way 
across, the uprooted tree (which I have already told 
you about) broke loose from among the rocks, and 
bore down upon him, with all its splintered branches 
sticking out like the hundred arms of the giant Bria- 
reus. It rushed past, however, without touching him. 
But the next moment, his foot was caught in a crevice 
between two rocks, and stuck there so fast, that, ir 
the effort to get free, he lost one of his golden-stringed 
sandals. 

At this accident Jason could not help uttering a 
ery of vexation. 


385 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

“ What is the matter, Jason ? ” asked the old woman. 

“ Matter enough,” said the young man. “ I have 
lost a sandal here among the rocks. And what sort 
of a figure shall I cut at the court of King Pelias, 
with a golden-stringed sandal on one foot, and the 
other foot bare ! ” 

“ Do not take it to heart,” answered his companion, 
cheerily. “You never met with better fortune than 
in losing that sandal. It satisfies me that you are the 
very person whom the Speaking Oak has been talking 
about.” 

There was no time, just theii^to inquire what the 
Speaking Oak had said. But theN^riskness of her 
tone encouraged the young man ; and besides, he had 
never in his life felt so vigorous and mighty as since 
taking this old woman on his back. Instead of being 
exhausted, he gathered strength as he went on; and, 
struggling up against the torrent, he at last gained the 
opposite shore, clambered up the bank, and set down 
the old dame and her peacock safely on the grass. As 
soon as this was done, however, lie could not help look¬ 
ing rather despondently at his bare foot, with only a 
remnant of the golden string of the sandal clinging 
round his ankle. 

“ You will get a handsomer pair of sandals by and 
by,” said the old woman, with a kindly look out of her 
beautiful brown eyes. “ Only let King Pelias get a 
glimpse of that bare foot, and you shall see him turn 
as pale as ashes, I promise you. There is your path. 
Go along, my good Jason, and my blessing go with 
you. And when you sit on your throne, remember the 
old woman whom you helped over the river.” 

With these words, she hobbled away, giving him a 
smile over her shoulder as she departed. Whether 
25 


VOL- IV. 


386 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


the light of her beautiful brown eyes threw a glory 
round about her, or whatever the cause might be, Jason 
fancied that there was something very noble and ma¬ 
jestic in her figure, after all, and that, though her gait 
seemed to be a rheumatic hobble, yet she moved with 
as much grace and dignity as any queen on earth. 
Her peacock, which had now fluttered down from her 
shoulder, strutted behind her in prodigious pomp, and 
spread out its magnificent tail on purpose for Jason to 
admire it. 

When the old dame and her peacock were out of 
sight, Jason set forward on his journey. After travel¬ 
ling a pretty long distance, he came to a town situated 
at the foot of a mountain, and not a great way from 
the shore of the sea. On the outside of the town 
there was an immense crowd of people, not only men 
and women, but children, too, all in their best clothes, 
and evidently enjoying a holiday. The crowd was 
thickest towards the sea-shore ; and in that direction, 
over the people’s heads, Jason saw a wreath of smoke 
curling upward to the blue sky. He inquired of one 
of the multitude what town it was, near by, and why 
so many persons were here assembled together. 

“ This is the kingdom of Iolchos,” answered the 
man, “ and we are the subjects of King Pelias. Our 
monarch has summoned us together, that we may see 
him sacrifice a black bull to Neptune, who, they say, 
is his Majesty’s father. Yonder is the king, whpre 
fou see the smoke going up from the altar.” 

While the man spoke he eyed Jason with great cu¬ 
riosity; for his garb was quite unlike that of the 
lolchians, and it looked very odd to see a youth with 
a leopard’s skin over his shoulders, and each hand 
grasping a spear. Jason perceived, too, that the mag 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


387 


stared particularly at liis feet, one of which, you re¬ 
member, was bare, while the other was decorated with 
his father’s golden-stringed sandal. 

“ Look at him ! only look at him ! ” said the man 
to his next neighbor. “ Do you see ? He wears but 
one sandal! ” 

Upon this, first one person, and then another, began 
to stare at Jason, and everybody seemed to be greatly 
struck with something in his aspect; though they 
turned their eyes much oftener towards his feet than 
to any other part of his figure. Besides, he could hear 
them whispering to one another. 

“ One sandal! One sandal! ” they kept saying. 
“ The man with one sandal! Here he is at last! 
Whence has he come? What does he mean to do? 
What will the king say to the one-sandalled man ? ” 

Poor Jason was greatly abashed, and made up his 
mind that the people of Iolchos were exceedingly ill 
bred, to take such public notice of an accidental de¬ 
ficiency in his dress. Meanwhile, whether it were that 
they hustled him forward, or that Jason, of his own 
accord, thrust a passage through the crowd, it so hap¬ 
pened that he soon found himself close to the smoking 
altar, where King Pelias was sacrificing the black bull. 
The murmur and hum of the multitude, in their sur¬ 
prise at the spectacle of Jason with his one bare foot, 
grew so loud that it disturbed the ceremonies ; and the 
king, holding the great knife with which he was just 
going to cut the bull’s throat, turned angrily about, 
and fixed his eyes on Jason. The people had now 
withdrawn from around him, so that the youth stood 
in an open space near the smoking altar, front to front 
with the angry King Pelias. 

“ Who are you ? ” cried the king, with a terrible 


388 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

frown. “ And how dare you make this disturbance, 
while I am sacrificing a black bull to my father Nep¬ 
tune ? ” 

“ It is no fault of mine,” answered Jason. “ Your 
Majesty must blame the rudeness of your subjects, 
who have raised all this tumult because one of my feet 
happens to be bare.” 

When Jason said this, the king gave a quick, 
startled glance down at his feet. 

“ Ha! ” muttered he, “ here is the one-sandalled 
fellow, sure enough ! What can I do with him? ” 

And he clutched more closely the great knife in his 
hand, as if he were half a mind to slay Jason instead 
of the black bull. The people romid about caught 
up the king’s words indistinctly as they were uttered ; 
and first there was a murmur among them, and then a 
loud shout. 

“ The one-sandalled man has come! The prophecy 
must be fulfilled! ” 

For you are to know that, many years before, King 
Pelias had been told by the Speaking Oak of Dodona, 
that a man with one sandal should cast him down 
from his throne. On this account, he had given strict 
orders that nobody should ever come into his presence, 
unless both sandals were securely tied upon his feet; 
and he kept an officer in his palace, whose sole busi¬ 
ness it was to examine people’s sandals, and to supply 
them with a new pair, at the expense of the royal 
treasury, as soon as the old ones began to wear out. 
In the whole course of the king’s reign, he had never 
been thrown into such a fright and agitation as by the 
spectacle of poor Jason’s bare foot. But, as he was 
naturally a bold and hard-hearted man, he soon took 
courage, and began to consider in what way he might 
rid himself of this terrible one-sandalled stranger. 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


389 


“ My good young man,” said King Pelias, taking 
tlie softest tone imaginable, in order to throw Jason 
off his guard, “ you are excessively welcome to my 
kingdom. Judging by your dress, you must have 
travelled a long distance ; for it is not the fashion to 
wear leopard-skins in this part of the world. Pray 
what may I call your name ? and where did you re¬ 
ceive your education ? ” 

“ My name is Jason,” answered the young stranger. 
“ Ever since my infancy, I have dwelt in the cave of 
Chiron the Centaur. He was my instructor, and 
taught me music, and horsemanship, and how to cure 
wounds, and likewise how to inflict wounds with my 
weapons! ” 

“ I have heard of Chiron the schoolmaster,” replied 
King Pelias, “ and how that there is an immense deal 
of learning and wisdom in his head, although it hap¬ 
pens to be set on a horse’s body. It gives me great 
delight to see one of his scholars at my court. But, 
to test how much you have profited under so excellent 
a teacher, will you allow me to ask you a single ques¬ 
tion?” 

“I do not pretend to be very wise,” said Jason. 
u But ask me what you please, and I will answer to 
the best of my ability.” 

Now King Pelias meant cunningly to entrap the 
young man, and to make him say something that 
should be the cause of mischief and destruction to 
himself. So with a crafty and evil smile upon his 
face, he spoke as follows : — 

“ What would you do, brave Jason,” asked he, “ if 
there were a man in the world, by whom, as you had 
reason to believe, you were doomed to be ruined and 
slain, — what would you do, I say, if that man stood 
before you, and in your power ? ” 


390 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


When J ason saw the malice and wickedness which 
King Pelias could not prevent from gleaming out of 
his eyes, he probably guessed that the king had dis¬ 
covered what he came for, and that he intended to 
turn his own words against himself. Still he scorned 
to tell a falsehood. Like an upright and honorable 
prince, as he was, he determined to speak out the real 
truth. Since the king had chosen to ask him the ques¬ 
tion, and since Jason had promised him an answer, 
there was no right way, save to tell him precisely what 
would be the most prudent thing to do, if he had his 
worst enemy in his power. 

Therefore, after a moment’s consideration, he spoke 
up, with a firm and manly voice. 

“ I would send such a man,” said he, “ in quest of 
the Golden Fleece! ” 

This enterprise, you will understand, was, of all 
others, the most difficult and dangerous in the world. 
In the first place, it would be necessary to make a 
long voyage through unknown seas. There was hardly 
a hope, or a possibility, that any young man who 
should undertake this voyage would either succeed in 
obtaining the Golden Fleece, or would survive to re¬ 
turn home, and tell of the perils he had run. The 
eyes of King Pelias sparkled with joy, therefore, when 
he heard Jason’s reply. 

“ W ell said, wise man with the one sandal i ” cried 
he. “ Go, then, and, at the peril of your life, bring 
me back the Golden Fleece.” 

“I go,” answered Jason, composedly. “If I fail, 
you need not fear that I will ever come back to 
trouble you again. But if I return to Iolchos with 
the prize, then, King Pelias, you must hasten down 
from your lofty throne, and give me your crown and 
sceptre.” 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 391 

“ That I will,” said the king, with a sneer. 44 Mean¬ 
time, I will keep them very safely for you.” 

The first thing that Jason thought of doing, after 
he left the king’s presence, was to go to Dodona, and 
inquire of the Talking Oak what course it was best to 
pursue. This wonderful tree stood in the centre of an 
ancient wood. Its stately trunk rose up a hundred 
feet into the air, and threw a broad and dense shadow 
over more than an acre of ground. Standing beneath 
it, Jason looked up among the knotted branches and 
green leaves, and into the mysterious heart of the old 
tree, and spoke aloud, as if he were addressing some 
person who was hidden in the depths of the foliage. 

44 What shall I do,” said he, 44 in order to win the 
Golden Fleece ? ” 

At first there was a deep silence, not only within 
the shadow of the Talking Oak, but all through the 
solitary wood. In a moment or two, however, the 
leaves of the oak began to stir and rustle, as if a 
gentle breeze were wandering amongst them, although 
the other trees of the wood were perfectly still. The 
sound grew louder, and became like the roar of a 
high wind. By and by, Jason imagined that he could 
distinguish words, but very confusedly, because each 
separate leaf of the tree seemed to be a tongue, and 
the whole myriad of tongues were babbling at once. 
But the noise waxed broader and deeper, until it re^ 
sembled a tornado sweeping through the oak, and 
making one great utterance out of the thousand and 
thousand of little murmurs which each leafy tongue 
had caused by its rustling. And now, though it still 
had the tone of mighty wind roaring among the 
branches, it was also like a deep bass voice, speaking, 
as distinctly as a tree could be expected to speak, the 
'following words: — 


392 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

Go to Argus, the ship-builder, and bid him build 
a galley with fifty oars.” 

Then the voice melted again into the indistinct 
murmur of the rustling leaves, and died gradually 
away. When it was quite gone, Jason felt inclined 
to doubt whether he had actually heard the words, or 
whether his fancy had not shaped them out of the or¬ 
dinary sound made by a breeze, while passing through 
the thick foliage of the tree. 

But on inquiry among the people of Iolchos, he 
found that there was really a man in the city, by the 
name of Argus, who was a very skilful builder of ves¬ 
sels. This showed some intelligence in the oak; else 
how should it have known that any such person ex¬ 
isted ? At Jason’s request, Argus readily consented 
to build him a galley so big that it should require fifty 
strong men to row it; although no vessel of such a 
size and burden had heretofore been seen in the world. 
So the head carpenter, and all his journeymen and 
apprentices, began their work ; and for a good while 
afterwards, there they were, busily employed, hewing 
out the timbers, and making a great clatter with their 
hammers; until the new ship, which was called the 
Argo, seemed to be quite ready for sea. And, as the 
Talking Oak had already given him such good advice, 
Jason thought that it would not be amiss to ask for a 
little more. He visited it again, therefore, and stand¬ 
ing beside its huge, rough trunk, inquired what he 
should do next. 

This time, there was no such universal quivering 
of the leaves, throughout the whole tree, as there had 
been before. But after a while, Jason observed that 
the foliage of a great branch which stretched above 
bis head had begun to rustle, as if the wind were 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 393 

stirring that one bough, while all the other boughs of 
the oak were at rest. 

“ Cut me off!” said the branch, as soon as it could 
speak distinctly, — “ cut me off ! cut me off! and 
carve me into a figure-head for your galley.” 

Accordingly, Jason took the branch at its word, and 
lopped it off the tree. A carver in the neighborhood 
engaged to make the figure-head. He was a tolerably 
good workman, and had already carved several figure¬ 
heads, in what he intended for feminine shapes, and 
looking pretty much like those which we see nowadays 
stuck up under a vessel’s bowsprit, with great staring 
eyes, that never wink at the dash of the spray. But 
(what was very strange) the carver found that his 
hand was guided by some unseen power, and by a skill 
beyond his own, and that his tools shaped out an 
image which he had never dreamed of. When the 
work was finished, it turned out to be the figure of 
a beautiful woman with a helmet on her head, from 
beneath which the long ringlets fell down upon her 
shoulders. On the left arm was a shield, and in its 
centre appeared a lifelike representation of the head 
of Medusa with the snaky locks. The right arm was 
extended, as if pointing onward. The face of this 
wonderful statue, though not angry or forbidding, was 
so grave and majestic, that perhaps you might call it 
severe ; and as for the mouth, it seemed just ready 
to unclose its lips, and utter words of the deepest 
wisdom. 

Jason was delighted with the oaken image, and gave 
the carver no rest until it was completed, and set up 
where a figure-head has always stood, from that time 
to this, in the vessel’s prow. 

“ And now,” cried he, as he stood gazing at the 


394 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


calm, majestic face of the statue, “ I must go to the 
Talking Oak, and inquire what next to do.” 

“There is no need of that, Jason,” said a voice 
which, though it was far lower, reminded him of the 
mighty tones of the great oak. “ When you desire 
good advice, you can seek it of me.” 

Jason had been looking straight into the face of the 
image when these words were spoken. But he could 
hardly believe either his ears or his eyes. The truth 
was, however, that the oaken lips had moved, and, to 
all appearance, the voice had proceeded from the stat¬ 
ue’s mouth. Recovering a little from his surprise, 
Jason bethought himself that the image had been 
carved out of the wood of the Talking Oak, and that, 
therefore, it was really no great wonder, but on the 
contrary, the most natural thing in the world, that it 
should possess the faculty of speech. It would have 
been very odd, indeed, if it had not. But certainly it 
was a great piece of good fortune that he should be 
able to carry so wise a block of wood along with him 
in his perilous voyage. 

“ Tell me, wondrous image,” exclaimed Jason, —- 
“ since you inherit the wisdom of the Speaking Oak 
of Dodona, whose daughter you are, —tell me, where 
shall I find fifty bold youths, who will take each of 
them an oar of my galley ? They must have sturdy 
arms to row, and brave hearts to encounter perils, or 
we shall never win the Golden Fleece.” 

“ Go,” replied the oaken image, — “ go, summon all 
the heroes of Greece.” 

And, in fact, considering what a great deed was to 
be done, could any advice be wiser than this which 
Jason received from the figure-head of his vessel ? He 
lost no time in sending messengers to all the cities, 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 395 

and making known to tke whole people of Greece, that 
Prince Jason, the son of King iEson, was going in 
quest of the Fleece of Gold, and that he desired the 
help of forty-nine of the bravest and strongest young 
men alive, to row his vessel and share his dangers 
And Jason himself would be the fiftieth. 

At this news, the adventurous youths, all over the 
country, began to bestir themselves. Some of them 
had already fought with giants, and slain dragons; 
and the younger ones, who had not yet met with such 
good fortune, thought it a shame to have lived so long 
without getting astride of a flying serpent, or stick¬ 
ing their spears into a Chimsera, or, at least, thrust¬ 
ing their right arms down a monstrous lion’s throat. 
There was a fair prospect that they would meet with 
plenty of such adventures before finding the Golden 
Fleece. As soon as they could furbish up their hel¬ 
mets and shields, therefore, and gird on their trusty 
swords, they came thronging to Iolchos, and clambered 
on board the new galley. Shaking hands with Jason, 
they assured him that they did not care a pin for their 
lives, but would help row the vessel to the remotest 
edge of the world, and as much farther as he might 
think it best to go. 

Many of these brave fellows had been educated by 
Chiron, the four-footed pedagogue, and were therefore 
old schoolmates of Jason, and knew him to be a lad 
of spirit. The mighty Hercules, whose shoulders af¬ 
terwards held up the sky, was one of them. And 
there were Castor and Pollux, the twin brothers, who 
were never accused of being chicken-hearted, although 
they had been hatched out of an egg; and Theseus, 
who was so renowned for killing the Minotaur ; and 
Lynceus, with his wonderfully sharp eyes, which could 


396 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


see through a millstone, or look right down into the 
depths of the earth, and discover the treasures that 
were there; and Orpheus, the very best of harpers, 
who sang and played upon his lyre so sweetly, that 
the brute beasts stood upon their hind legs, and ca¬ 
pered merrily to the music. Yes, and at some of his 
more moving tunes, the rocks bestirred their moss- 
grown bulk out of the ground, and a grove of forest 
trees uprooted themselves, and, nodding their tops to 
one another, performed a country dance. 

One of the rowers was a beautiful young woman, 
named Atalanta, who had been nursed among the 
mountains by a bear. So light of foot was this fair 
damsel that she could step from one foamy crest of a 
wave to the foamy crest of another, without wetting 
more than the sole of her sandal. She had grown up 
in a very wild way, and talked much about the rights of 
women, and loved hunting and war far better than her 
needle. But, in my opinion, the most remarkable of 
this famous company were two sons of the North Wind 
(airy youngsters, and of rather a blustering disposi¬ 
tion), who had wings on their shoulders, and, in case 
of a calm, could puff out their cheeks, and blow almost 
as fresh a breeze as their father. I ought not to forget 
the prophets and conjurers, of whom there were sev¬ 
eral in the crew, and who could foretell what would 
happen to-morrow, or the next day, or a hundred years 
hence, but were generally quite unconscious of what 
was passing at the moment. 

Jason appointed Tiphys to be helmsman, because 
he was a star-gazer, and knew the points of the com¬ 
pass. Lynceus, on account of his sharp sight, was 
stationed as a lookout in the prow, where he saw a 
whole day’s sail ahead, but was rather apt to overlook 


397 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

things that lay directly under his nose. If the sea 
only happened to be deep enough, however, Lynceus 
could tell you exactly what kind of rocks or sands 
were at the bottom of it; and he often cried out to 
his companions, that they were sailing over heaps of 
sunken treasure, which yet he was none the richer for 
beholding. To confess the truth, few people believed 
him when he said it. 

Well! But when the Argonauts, as these fifty brave 
adventurers were called, had prepared everything for 
the voyage, an unforeseen difficulty threatened to end 
it before it was begun. The vessel, you must under¬ 
stand, was so long, and broad, and ponderous, that 
the united force of all the fifty was insufficient to 
shove her into the water. Hercules, I suppose, had 
not grown to his full strength, else he might have set 
her afloat as easily as a little boy launches his boat 
upon a puddle. But here were these fifty heroes push¬ 
ing, and straining, and growing red in the face, with¬ 
out making the Argo start an inch. At last, quite 
wearied out, they sat themselves down on the shore, 
exceedingly disconsolate, and thinking that the vessel 
must be left to rot and fall in pieces, and that they 
must either swim across the sea or lose the Golden 
Fleece. 

All at once, Jason bethought himself of the galley’s 
miraculous figure-head. 

“ O daughter of the Talking Oak,” cried he, 44 how 
shall we set to work to get our vessel into the water ? ” 

44 Seat yourselves,” answered the image (for it had 
known what ought to be done from the very first, and 
was only waiting for the question to be put), — 44 seat 
yourselves, and handle your oars, and let Orpheus 
play upon his harp.” 


398 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


Immediately the fifty heroes got on board, and seiz 
ing their oars, held them perpendicularly in the air, 
while Orpheus (who liked such a task far better than 
rowing) swept his fingers across the harp. At the 
first ringing note of the music, they felt the vessel stir, 
Orpheus thrummed away briskly, and the galley slid 
at once into the sea, dipping her prow so deeply that 
the figure-head drank the wave with its marvellous 
lips, and rose again as buoyant as a swan. The row¬ 
ers plied their fifty oars; the white foam boiled up 
before the prow; the water gurgled and bubbled in 
their wake ; while Orpheus continued to play so lively 
a strain of music, that the vessel seemed to dance over 
the billows by way of keeping time to it. Thus tri¬ 
umphantly did the Argo sail out of the harbor, amidst 
the huzzas and good wishes of everybody except the 
wicked old Pelias, who stood on a promontory, scowl¬ 
ing at her, and wishing that he could blow out of his 
lungs the tempest of wrath that was in his heart, and 
so sink the galley with all on board. When they had 
sailed above fifty miles over the sea, Lynceus happened 
to cast his sharp eyes behind, and said that there was 
this bad-hearted king, still perched upon the promon¬ 
tory, and scowling so gloomily that it looked like a 
black thunder-cloud in that quarter of the horizon. 

In order to make the time pass away more pleas¬ 
antly during the voyage, the heroes talked about the 
Golden Fleece. It originally belonged, it appears, to 
a Boeotian ram, who had taken on his back two chil¬ 
dren, when in danger of their lives, and fled with them 
over land and sea, as far as Colchis. One of the chil¬ 
dren, whose name was Helle, fell into the sea and was 
drowned. But the other (a little boy, named PhrixusI 
was brought safe ashore by the faithful ram, who, how- 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


399 


3ver, was so exhausted that he immediately lay down 
and died. In memory of this good deed, and as a 
token of his true heart, the fleece of the poor dead 
ram was miraculously changed to gold, and became 
one of the most beautiful objects ever seen on earth. 
It was hung upon a tree in a sacred grove, where it 
had now been kept I know not how many years, and 
was the envy of mighty kings, who had nothing sc 
magnificent in any of their palaces. 

If I were to tell you all the adventures of the Argo¬ 
nauts, it would take me till nightfall, and perhaps a 
great deal longer. There was no lack of wonderful 
events, as you may judge from what you may have al¬ 
ready heard. At a certain island they were hospitably 
received by King Cyzicus, its sovereign, who made a 
feast for them, and treated them like brothers. But 
the Argonauts saw that this good king looked down¬ 
cast and very much troubled, and they therefore in¬ 
quired of him what was the matter. King Cyzicus 
hereupon informed them that he and his subjects were 
greatly abused and incommoded by the inhabitants of 
a neighboring mountain, who made war upon then;, 
and killed many people, and ravaged the country. 
And while they were talking about it, Cyzicus pointed 
to the mountain, and asked Jason and his companions 
what they saw there. 

“ I see some very tall objects,” answered Jason; 

but they are at such a distance that I cannot dis¬ 
tinctly make out what they are. To tell your Majesty 
the truth, they look so very strangely that I am in¬ 
clined to think them clouds, which have chanced to 
take something like human shapes.” 

“ I see them very plainly,” remarked Lynceus, whose 
eyes, you know, were as far-sighted as a telescope. 


400 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


“ They are a band of enormous giants, all of whom 
have six arms apiece, and a club, a sword, or some 
other weapon in each of their hands.” 

“You have excellent eyes,” said King Cyzicus, 
“Yes; they are six-armed giants, as you say, and these 
are the enemies whom I and my subjects have to con¬ 
tend with.” 

The next day, when the Argonauts were about set 
ting sail, down came these terrible giants, stepping a 
hundred yards at a stride, brandishing their six arms 
apiece, and looking very formidable, so far aloft in 
the air. Each of these monsters was able to carry on 
a whole war by himself, for with one of his arms he 
could fling immense stones, and wield a club with an 
other, and a sword with a third, while the fourth was 
poking a long spear at the enemy, and the fifth and 
sixth were shooting him with a bow and arrow. But, 
luckily, though the giants were so huge, and had so 
many arms, they had each but one heart, and that no 
bigger nor braver than the heart of an ordinary man. 
Besides, if they had been like the hundred-armed Bri- 
areus, the brave Argonauts would have given them 
their hands full of fight. Jason and his friends went 
boldly to meet them, slew a great many, and made 
the rest take to their heels, so that, if the giants had 
had six legs apiece instead of six arms, it would have 
served them better to run away with. 

Another strange adventure happened when the voy¬ 
agers came to Thrace, where they found a poor blind 
king, named Phineus, deserted by his subjects, and 
living in a very sorrowful way, all by himself. On 
Jason’s inquiring whether they could do him any 
service, the king answered that he was terribly tor¬ 
mented by three great winged creatures, called Haj> 


401 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

pies, which had the faces of women, and the wings, 
bodies, and claws of vultures. These ugly wretches 
were in the habit of snatching away his dinner, and 
allowed him no peace of his life. Upon hearing this, 
the Argonauts spread a plentiful feast on the sea¬ 
shore, well knowing, from what the blind king said of 
their greediness, that the Harpies would snuff up the 
scent of the victuals, and quickly come to steal them 
away. And so it turned out; for, hardly was the ta¬ 
ble set, before the three hideous vulture women came 
flapping their wings, seized the food in their talons, 
and flew off as fast as they could. But the two sons 
of the North Wind drew their swords, spread their 
pinions, and set off through the air in pursuit of the 
thieves, whom they at last overtook among some isl¬ 
ands, after a chase of hundreds of miles. The two 
winged youths blustered terribly at the Harpies (for 
they had the rough temper of their father), and so 
frightened them with their drawn swords, that they 
solemnly promised never to trouble King Phineus 
again. 

Then the Argonauts sailed onward, and met with 
many other marvellous incidents any one of which 
would make a story by itself. At one time, they 
landed on an island, and were reposing on the grass, 
when they suddenly found themselves assailed by 
what seemed a shower of steel-headed arrows. Some 
of them stuck in the ground, while others hit against 
their shields, and several penetrated their flesh. The 
fifty heroes started up, and looked about them for the 
hidden enemy, but could find none, nor see any spot, 
on the whole island, where even a single archer could 
lie concealed. Still, however, the steel-headed arrows 
came whizzing among them; and, at last, happening 

vqi>. iy. 26 


402 THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

to look upward, they beheld a large flock of birds, 
hovering and wheeling aloft, and shooting their feath¬ 
ers down upon the Argonauts. These feathers were 
the steel-headed arrows that had so tormented them. 
There was no possibility of making any resistance ; 
and the fifty heroic Argonauts might all have been 
killed or wounded by a flock of troublesome birds, 
without ever setting eyes on the Golden Fleece, if 
Jason had not thought of asking the advice of the 
oaken image. 

So he ran to the galley as fast as his legs would 
carry him. 

“ O daughter of the Speaking Oak,” cried he, all 
out of breath, u we need your wisdom more than ever 
before! We are in great peril from a flock of birds, 
who are shooting us with their steel-pointed feathers. 
What can we do to drive them away ? ” 

“ Make a clatter on your shields,” said the image. 

On receiving this excellent counsel, Jason hurried 
back to his companions (who were far more dismayed 
than when they fought with the six-armed giants), and 
bade them strike with their swords upon their brazen 
shields. Forthwith the fifty heroes set heartily to 
work, banging with might and main, and raised such 
a terrible clatter that the birds made what haste they 
could to get away ; and though they had shot half the 
feathers out of their wings, they were soon seen skim¬ 
ming among the clouds, a long distance off, and look¬ 
ing like a flock of wild geese. Orpheus celebrated 
this victory by playing a triumphant anthem on his 
harp, and sang so melodiously that Jason begged him 
to desist, lest, as the steel-feathered birds had been 
driven away by an ugly sound, they might be enticed 
back again by a sweet one. 



THE GOLDEN FLEECE 403 

While the Argonauts remained on this island, they 
saw a small vessel approaching the shore, in which 
were two young men of princely demeanor, and ex¬ 
ceedingly handsome, as young princes generally were 
in those days. Now, who do you imagine these two 
voyagers turned out to be ? Why, if you will believe 
me, they were the sons of that very Phrixus, who, L 
his childhood, had been carried to Colchis on the back 
of the golden-fleeced ram. Since that time, Phrixus 
had married the king’s daughter ; and the two young 
princes had been born and brought up at Colchis, and 
had spent their play-days in the outskirts of the grove, 
in the centre of which the Golden Fleece was hanging 
upon a tree. They were now on their way to Greece, 
in hopes of getting back a kingdom that had been 
wrongfully taken from their father. 

When the princes understood whither the Argonauts 
were going, they offered to turn back and guide them 
to Colchis. At the same time, however, they spoke as 
if it were very doubtful whether Jason would succeed 
in getting the Golden Fleece. According to their ac¬ 
count, the tree on which it hung was guarded by a ter¬ 
rible dragon, who never failed to devour, at one mouth¬ 
ful, every person who might venture within his reach. 

“ There are other difficulties in the way,’* continued 
the young princes. “ But is not this enough ? Ah, 
brave Jason, turn back before it is too late. It would 
grieve us to the heart, if you and your nine-and-forty 
brave companions should be eaten up, at fifty mouth¬ 
fuls, by this execrable dragon.” 

“ My young friends,” quietly replied Jason, “ I do 
not wonder that you think the dragon very terrible. 
You have grown up from infancy in the fear of this 
monster, and therefore still regard him with the awe 


404 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


that children feel for the bugbears and hobgoblins 
which their nurses have talked to them about. But, 
in my view of the matter, the dragon is merely a 
pretty large serpent, who is not half so likely to snap 
me up at one mouthful as I am to cut off his ugly 
head, and strip the skin from his body. At all events, 
turn back who may, I will never see Greece again un¬ 
less I carry with me the Golden Fleece.” 

“We will none of us turn back! ” cried his nine- 
and-forty brave comrades. “ Let us get on board the 
galley this instant; and if the dragon is to make a 
breakfast of us, much good may it do him.” 

And Orpheus (whose custom it was to set every¬ 
thing to music) began to harp and sing most glori¬ 
ously, and made every mother’s son of them feel as 
if nothing in this world were so delectable as to fight 
dragons, and nothing so truly honorable as to be eaten 
up at one mouthful, in case of the worst. 

After this (being now under the guidance of the 
two princes, who were well acquainted with the way), 
they quickly sailed to Colchis. When the king of the 
country, whose name was iEetes, heard of their arrh 
val, he instantly summoned Jason to court. The king 
was a stern and cruel-looking potentate; and though 
he put on as polite and hospitable an expression as he 
could, Jason did not like his face a whit better than 
that of the wicked King Pelias, who dethroned his 
father. 

“You are welcome, brave Jason,” said King iEetes. 
“Pray, are you on a pleasure voyage? — or do you 
meditate the discovery of unknown islands? — or what 
other cause has procured me the happiness of seeing 
you at my court ? ” 

“Great sir,” replied Jason, with an obeisance,*** 


405 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

for Chiron had taught him how to behave with proprb 
ety, whether to king’s or beggars, — “I have come 
hither with a purpose which I now beg your Majesty’s 
permission to execute. King Pelias, who sits on my 
father’s throne (to which he has no more right than 
to the one on which your excellent Majesty is now 
seated), has engaged to come down from it, and to 
give me his crown and sceptre, provided I bring him 
the Golden Fleece. This, as your Majesty is aware, is 
now hanging on a tree here at Colchis; and I humbly 
solicit your gracious leave to take it away.” 

In spite of himself, the king’s face twisted itself 
into an angry frown; for, above all things else in the 
world, he prized the Golden Fleece, and was even sus¬ 
pected of having done a very wicked act, in order to 
get it into his own possession. It put him into the 
worst possible humor, therefore, to hear that the gal¬ 
lant Prince Jason, and forty-nine of the bravest young 
warriors of Greece, had come to Colchis with the sole 
purpose of taking away his chief treasure. 

“Do you know,” asked King ^Eetes, eying Jason 
very sternly, “ what are the conditions which you must 
fulfil before getting possession of the Golden Fleece?” 

“ I have heard,” rejoined the youth, “ that a dragon 
lies beneath the tree on which the prize hangs, and 
that whoever approaches him runs the risk of being 
devoured at a mouthful.” 

“True,” said the king, with a smile that did not 
look particularly good-natured. “Very true, young 
man. But there are other things as hard, or perhaps 
a little harder, to be done, before you can even have 
the privilege of being devoured by the dragon. For 
example, you must first tame my two brazen-footed 
and brazen-lunged bulls, which Vulcan, the wonderful 


406 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

blacksmith, made for me. There is a furnace in each 
of their stomachs; and they breathe such hot fire out 
of their mouths and nostrils, that nobody has hitherto 
gone nigh them without being instantly burned to a 
small, black cinder. What do you think of this, my 
brave Jason ? ” 

“ I must encounter the peril,” answered Jason, com¬ 
posedly, “ since it stands in the way of my purpose.” 

“After taming the fiery bulls,” continued King 
iEetes, who was determined to scare Jason if possible, 
“ you must yoke them to a plough, and must plough 
the sacred earth in the grove of Mars, and sow some 
of the same dragon’s teeth from which Cadmus raised 
a crop of armed men. They are an unruly set of rep¬ 
robates, those sons of the dragon’s teeth; and unless 
you treat them suitably, they will fall upon you sword 
in hand. You and your nine-and-forty Argonauts, my 
bold Jason, are hardly numerous or strong enough to 
fight with such a host as will spring up.” 

“My master Chiron,” replied Jason, “taught me, 
long ago, the story of Cadmus. Perhaps I can man¬ 
age the quarrelsome sons of the dragon’s teeth as well 
as Cadmus did.” 

“ I wish the dragon had him,” muttered King 
iEetes to himself, “ and the four - footed pedant, his 
schoolmaster, into the bargain. Why, what a fool¬ 
hardy, self-conceited coxcomb he is! We ’ll see what 
my fire-breathing bulls will do for him. Well, Prince 
Jason,” he continued, aloud, and as complaisantly as 
he could, “ make yourself comfortable for to-day, and 
to-morrow morning, since you insist upon it, you shall 
try your skill at the plough.” 

While the king talked with Jason, a beautiful 
young woman was standing behind the throne. She 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 407 

fixed her eyes earnestly upon the youthful stranger, 
and listened attentively to every word that was spo¬ 
ken; and when Jason withdrew from the king’s pres¬ 
ence, this young woman followed him out of the room. 

“ I am the king’s daughter,” she said to him, “ and 
my name is Medea. I know a great deal of which 
other young princesses are ignorant, and can do many 
things which they would he afraid so much as to 
dream of. If you will trust to me, I can instruct you 
how to tame the fiery bulls, and sow the dragon’s 
teeth, and get the Golden Fleece.” 

“•Indeed, beautiful princess,” answered Jason, “if 
you will do me this service, I promise to be grateful to 
you my whole life long.” 

Gazing at Medea, he beheld a wonderful intelli¬ 
gence in her face. She was one of those persons 
whose eyes are full of mystery; so that, while looking 
into them, you seem to see a very great way, as into 
a deep well, yet can never be certain whether you see 
into the farthest depths, or whether there be not some¬ 
thing else hidden at the bottom. If Jason had been 
capable of fearing anything, he would have been afraid 
of making this young princess his enemy; for, beau¬ 
tiful as she now looked, she might, the very next in¬ 
stant, become as terrible as the dragon that kept watch 
over the Golden Fleece. 

“Princess,” he exclaimed, “you seem indeed very 
wise and very powerful. But how can you help me to 
do the things of which you speak ? Are you an en¬ 
chantress ? ” 

“ Yes, Prince Jason,” answered Medea, with a 
smile, “you have hit upon the truth. I am an en¬ 
chantress. Circe, my father’s sister, taught me to be 
Dne, and I could tell you, if I pleased, who was the old 



408 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

woman with the peacock, the pomegranate, and the 
cuckoo staff, whom you carried over the river; and. 
likewise, who it is that speaks through the lips of the 
oaken image, that stands in the prow of your galley. 
I am acquainted with some of your secrets, you per¬ 
ceive. It is well for you that I am favorably in¬ 
clined ; for, otherwise, you would hardly escape being 
snapped up by the dragon.” 

“I should not so much care for the dragon,” replied 
Jason, “if I only knew how to manage the brazen¬ 
footed and fiery-lunged bulls.” 

“ If you are as brave as I think you, and as you 
have need to be,” said Medea, * 4 your own bold heart 
will teach you that there is but one way of dealing 
with a mad bull. What it is I leave you to find out 
in the moment of peril. As for the fiery breath of 
these animals, I have a charmed ointment here, which 
will prevent you from being burned up, and cure you 
if you chance to be a little scorched.” 

So she put a golden box into his hand, and directed 
him how to apply the perfumed unguent which it con¬ 
tained, and where to meet her at midnight. 

“ Only be brave,” added she, “ and before daybreak 
the brazen bulls shall be tamed.” 

The young man assured her that his heart would 
not fail him. He then rejoined his comrades, and 
told them what had passed between the princess and 
himself, and warned them to be in readiness in case 
there might be need of their help. 

At the appointed hour he met the beautiful Medea 
on the marble steps of the king’s palace. She gave 
him a basket, in which were the dragon’s teeth, just 
as they had been pulled out of the monster’s jaws by 
Cadmus, long ago. Medea then led Jason down the 


409 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

palace steps, and through the silent streets of the city, 
and into the royal pasture-ground, where the two bra¬ 
zen-footed bulls were kept. It was a starry night, 
with a bright gleam along the eastern edge of the sky, 
where the moon was soon going to show herself. Aftor 
entering the pasture, the princess paused and looked 
around. 

“There they are,” said she, “reposing themselves 
and chewing their fiery cuds in that farthest corner of 
the field. It will be excellent sport, I assure you, 
when they catch a glimpse of your figure. My father 
and all his court delight in nothing so much as to see 
a stranger trying to yoke them, in order to come at 
the Golden Fleece. It makes a holiday in Colchis 
whenever such a tiling happens. For my part, I en¬ 
joy it immensely. You cannot imagine in what a mere 
twinkling of an eye their hot breath shrivels a young 
man into a black cinder.” 

“Are you sure, beautiful Medea,” asked Jason, 
“ quite sure, that the unguent in the gold box will 
prove a remedy against those terrible burns ? ” 

“ If you doubt, if you are in the least afraid,” said 
the princess, looking him in the face by the dim star¬ 
light, “ you had better never have been born than go 
a step nigher to the bulls.” 

But Jason had set his heart steadfastly on getting 
the Golden Fleece; and I positively doubt whether he 
would have gone back without it, even had he been 
certain of finding himself turned into a red-hot cinder, 
or a handful of white ashes, the instant he made a 
step farther. He therefore let go Medea’s hand, and 
walked boldly forward in the direction whither she 
had pointed. At some distance before him he per¬ 
ceived four streams of fiery vapor, regularly appear 


410 THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

ing, and again vanishing, after dimly lighting up the 
surrounding obscurity. These, you will understand, 
were caused by the breath of the brazen bulls, which 
was quietly stealing out of their four nostrils, as they 
lay chewing their cuds. 

At the first two or three steps which Jason made, 
the four fiery streams appeared to gush out some¬ 
what more plentifully; for the two brazen bulls had 
heard his foot-tramp, and were lifting up their hot 
noses to snuff the air. He went a little farther, and 
by the way in which the red vapor now spouted forth, 
he judged that the creatures had got upon their feet. 
Now he could see glowing sparks, and vivid jets of 
flame. At the next step, each of the bulls made the 
pasture echo with a terrible roar, while the burning 
breath, which they thus belched forth, lit up the whole 
field with a momentary flash. One other stride did 
bold Jason make; and, suddenly, as a streak of light¬ 
ning, on came these fiery animals, roaring like thun¬ 
der, and sending out sheets of white flame, which so 
kindled up the scene that the young man could discern 
every object more distinctly than by daylight. Most 
distinctly of all he saw the two horrible creatures gal¬ 
loping right down upon him, their brazen hoofs rat¬ 
tling and ringing over the ground, and their tails 
sticking up stiffly into the air, as has always been the 
fashion with angry bulls. Their breath scorched the 
herbage before them. So intensely hot it was, indeed, 
that it caught a dry tree, under which Jason was now 
standing, and set it all in a light blaze. But as for 
Jason himself (thanks to Medea’s enchanted oint¬ 
ment), the white flame curled around his body, with 
out injuring him a jot more than if he had been mack 
of asbestos. 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


411 


Greatly encouraged at finding himself not yet turned 
into a cinder, the young man awaited the attack of the 
bulls. Just as the brazen brutes fancied themselves 
sure of tossing him into the air, he caught one of them 
by the horn, and the other by his screwed-up tail, and 
held them in a gripe like that of an iron vice, one with 
his right hand, the other with his left. W ell, he must 
have been wonderfully strong in his arms, to be sure. 
But the secret of the matter was, that the brazen bulls 
were enchanted creatures, and that Jason had broken 
the spell of their fiery fierceness by his bold way of 
handling them. And, ever since that time, it has been 
the favorite method of brave men, when danger assails 
them, to do what they call “ taking the bull by the 
horns ” ; and to gripe him by the tail is pretty much 
the same thing, — that is, to throw aside fear, and 
overcome the peril by despising it. 

It was now easy to yoke the bulls, and to harness 
them to the plough, which had lain rusting on the 
ground for a great many years gone by; so long was 
it before anybody could be found capable of plough¬ 
ing that piece of land. Jason, I suppose, had been 
taught how to draw a furrow by the good old Chiron, 
who, perhaps, used to allow himself to be harnessed to 
the plough. At any rate, our hero succeeded perfectly 
well in breaking up the greensward; and, by the time 
that the moon was a quarter of her journey up the 
sky, the ploughed field lay before him, a large tract of 
black earth, ready to be sown with the dragon’s teeth. 
So Jason scattered them broadcast, and harrowed them 
mto the soil with a brush-liarrow, and took his stand 
Dn the edge of the field, anxious to see what would 
happen next. 

“ Must we wait long for harvest-time ? ” he inquired 
vyf Medea, who was now standing by his side. 


412 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


6 ‘ Whether sooner or later, it will he sure to come, 
answered the princess. “ A crop of armed men never 
fails to spring up, when the dragon’s teeth have been 
sown.” 

The moon was now high aloft in the heavens, and 
threw its bright beams over the ploughed field, where 
as yet there was nothing to be seen. Any farmer, on 
viewing it, would have said that Jason must wait w^eeks 
before the green blades would peep from among the 
clods, and whole months before the yellow grain would 
be ripened for the sickle. But by and by, all over the 
field, there was something that glistened in the moon¬ 
beams, like sparkling drops of dew. These bright ob¬ 
jects sprouted higher, and proved to be the steel heads 
of spears. Then there was a dazzling gleam from a 
vast number of polished brass helmets, beneath which, 
as they grew farther out of the soil, appeared the dark 
and bearded visages of warriors, struggling to free 
themselves from the imprisoning earth. The first 
look that they gave at the upper world was a glare 
of wrath and defiance. Next were seen their bright 
breastplates ; in every right hand there was a sword 
or a spear, and on each left arm a shield; and when 
this strange crop of warriors had but half grown out 
of the earth, they struggled, — such was their impa¬ 
tience of restraint, — and, as it were, tore themselves 
up by the roots. Wherever a dragon’s tooth had 
fallen, there stood a man armed for battle. They 
made a clangor with their swords against their shields, 
and eyed one another fiercely; for they had come into 
this beautiful world, and into the peaceful moonlight, 
full of rage and stormy passions, and ready to take the 
life of every human brother, in recompense of the boo# 
of their own existence* 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 413 

There have been many other armies in the world 
Jhat seemed to possess the same fierce nature with the 
one which had now sprouted from the dragon’s teeth, 
but these, in the moonlit field, were the more excusa¬ 
ble, because they never had women for their mothers* 
And how it would have rejoiced any great captain, 
who was bent on conquering the world, like Alexander 
or Napoleon, to raise a crop of armed soldiers as easily 
as Jason did ! 

For a while, the warriors stood flourishing their 
weapons, clashing their swords against their shields, 
and boiling over with the red-hot thirst for battle. 
Then they began to shout, “ Show us the enemy ! 
Lead us to the charge! Death or victory! Come on, 
brave comrades ! Conquer or die ! ” and a hundred 
other outcries, such as men always bellow forth on a 
battle-field, and which these dragon people seemed to 
have at their tongues’ ends. At last, the front rank 
caught sight of Jason, who, beholding the flash of so 
many weapons in the moonlight, had thought it best 
to draw his sword. In a moment all the sons of the 
dragon’s teeth appeared to take Jason for an enemy; 
and crying with one voice, “ Guard the Golden Fleece!” 
they ran at him with uplifted swords and protruded 
spears. Jason knew that it would be impossible to 
withstand this bloodthirsty battalion with his single 
arm, but determined, since there was nothing better 
to be done, to die as valiantly as if he himself had 
sprung from a dragon’s tooth. 

Medea, however, bade him snatch up a stone from 
the ground. 

“ Throw it among them quickly 1 ” cried she. “ It 
is the only way to save yourself.” 

The armed men were now so nigh that Jason could 


414 THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

discern the fire flashing out of their enraged eyes, 
when he let fly the stone, and saw it strike the helmet 
of a tall warrior, who was rushing upon him with his 
blade aloft. The stone glanced from this man’s hel¬ 
met to the shield of his nearest comrade, and thence 
flew right into the angry face of another, hitting him 
smartly between the eyes. Each of the three who had 
been struck by the stone took it for granted that his 
next neighbor had given him a blow ; and instead of 
running any farther towards Jason, they began a fight 
among themselves. The confusion spread through the 
host, so that it seemed scarcely a moment before they 
were all hacking, hewing, and stabbing at one another, 
lopping off arms, heads, and legs, and doing such mem¬ 
orable deeds that Jason was filled with immense ad¬ 
miration ; although, at the same time, he could not 
help laughing to behold these mighty men punishing 
each other for an offence which he himself had com¬ 
mitted. In an incredibly short space of time (almost 
as short, indeed, as it had taken them to grow up), 
all but one of the heroes of the dragon’s teeth were 
stretched lifeless on the field. The last survivor, the 
bravest and strongest of the whole, had just force 
enough to wave his crimson sword over his head, and 
give a shout of exultation, crying, “ Victory ! Victory! 
Immortal fame! ” when he himself fell down, and lay 
quietly among his slain brethren. 

And there was the end of the army that had sprouted 
from the dragon’s teeth. That fierce and feverish 
fight was the only enjoyment which they had tasted 
on this beautiful earth. 

“ Let them sleep in the bed of honor,” said the Prin¬ 
cess Medea, with a sly smile at Jason. “ The world 
will always have simpletons enough, just like them, 



JASON AND THE ARMED MEN 



THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


415 


fighting and dying for they know not what, and fancy* 
ing that posterity will take the trouble to put laurel 
wreaths on their rusty and battered helmets. Could 
you help smiling, Prince Jason, to see the self-conceit 
of that last fellow, just as lie tumbled down ? ” 

“ It made me very sad,” answered Jason, gravely. 
“ And, to tell you the truth, princess, the Golden 
Fleece does not appear so well worth the winning, 
after what I have here beheld.” 

“ You will think differently in the morning,” said 
Medea. “ True, the Golden Fleece may not be so val¬ 
uable as you have thought it; but then there is noth¬ 
ing better in the world ; and one must needs have an 
object, you know. Come! Your night’s work has 
been well performed ; and to-morrow you can inform 
King: ASetes that the first part of your alloted task is 
fulfilled.” 

Agreeably to Medea’s advice, Jason went betimes in 
the morning to the palace of King iEetes. Entering 
the presence-chamber, he stood at the foot of the 
throne, and made a low obeisance. 

“Your eyes look heavy, Prince Jason,” observed 
the king; “you appear to have spent a sleepless night. 
[ hope you have been considering the matter a little 
more wisely, and have concluded not to get yourself 
scorched to a cinder, in attempting to tame my brazen- 
lunged bulls.” 

“That is already accomplished, may it please your 
Majesty,” replied Jason. “ The bulls have been tamed 
and yoked ; the field has been ploughed; the dragon’s 
teeth have been sown broadcast, and harrowed into 
the soil; the crop of armed warriors has sprung up, 
and they have slain one another, to the last man. And 
now I solicit your Majesty’s permission to encounter 


416 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


the dragon, that I may take down the Golden Fleece 
from the tree, and depart, with my nine-and-forty 
comrades.” 

King JEetes scowled, and looked very angry and ex¬ 
cessively disturbed; for he knew that, in accordance 
with his kingly promise, he ought now to permit Jason 
to win the fleece, if his courage and skill should enar 
ble him to do so. But, since the young man had met 
with such good luck in the matter of the brazen bulls 
and the dragon’s teeth, the king feared that he would 
be equally successful in slaying the dragon. And 
therefore, though he would gladly have seen Jason 
snapped up at a mouthful, he was resolved (and it 
was a very wrong thing of this wicked potentate) not 
to run any further risk of losing his beloved fleece. 

“ You never would have succeeded in this business, 
young man,” said he, u if my undutiful daughter Me¬ 
dea had not helped you with her enchantments. Had 
you acted fairly, you would have been, at this instant, 
a black cinder, or a handful of white ashes. I forbid 
you, on pain of death, to make any more attempts to 
get the Golden Fleece. To speak my mind plainly, 
you shall never set eyes on so much as one of its glis¬ 
tening locks.” 

Jason left the king’s presence in great sorrow and 
anger. He could think of nothing better to be done 
than to summon together his forty-nine brave Argo¬ 
nauts, march at once to the grove of Mars, slay the 
dragon, take possession of the Golden Fleece, get on 
board the Argo, and spread all sail for Iolchos. The 
success of the scheme depended, it is true, on the 
doubtful point whether all the fifty heroes might not 
be snapped up, at so many mouthfuls, by the dragon. 
But, as Jason was hastening down the palace steps, 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 417 

the Princess Medea called after him, and beckoned 
him to return. Her black eyes shone upon him with 
such a keen intelligence, that he felt as if there were 
a serpent peeping out of them; and although she had 
done him so much service only the night before, he 
was by no means very certain that she would not do 
him an equally great mischief before sunset. These 
enchantresses, you must know, are never to be de¬ 
pended upon. 

“ What says King iEetes, my royal and upright 
father?” inquired Medea, slightly smiling. 44 Will 
he give you the Golden Fleece, without any further 
risk or trouble ? ” 

44 On the contrary,” answered Jason, 44 he is very 
angry with me for taming the brazen bulls and sowing 
the dragon’s teeth. And he forbids me to make any 
more attempts, and positively refuses to give up the 
Golden Fleece, whether I slay the dragon or no.” 

44 Yes, Jason,” said the princess, 44 and I can tell 
you more. Unless you set sail from Colchis before 
to-morrow’s sunrise, the king means to burn your 
fifty-oared galley, and put yourself and your forty- 
nine brave comrades to the sword. But be of good 
courage. The Golden Fleece you shall have, if it lies 
within the power of my enchantments to get it for 
you. Wait for me here an hour before midnight.” 

At the appointed hour, you might again have seen 
Prince Jason and the Princess Medea, side by side, 
stealing through the streets of Colchis, on their way 
to the sacred grove, in the centre of which the Gol¬ 
den Fleece was suspended to a tree. While they were 
crossing the pasture - ground, the brazen bulls came 
towards Jason, lowing, nodding their heads, and 
thrusting forth their snouts, which, as other cattle do, 

vol. iv. 27 


418 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 

they loved to have rubbed and caressed by a friendly 
hand. Their fierce nature was thoroughly tamed; 
and, with their fierceness, the two furnaces in their 
stomachs had likewise been extinguished, insomuch 
that they probably enjoyed far more comfort in graz¬ 
ing and chewing their cuds than ever before. In¬ 
deed, it had heretofore been a great inconvenience to 
these poor animals, that, whenever they wished to eat 
a mouthful of grass, the fire out of their nostrils had 
shrivelled it up, before they could manage to crop it. 
How they contrived to keep themselves alive is more 
than I can imagine. But now, instead of emitting 
jets of flame and streams of sulphurous vapor, they 
breathed the very sweetest of cow breath. 

After kindly patting the bulls, Jason followed Me¬ 
dea’s guidance into the grove of Mars, where the great 
oak-trees, that had been growing for centuries, threw 
so thick a shade that the moonbeams struggled vainly 
to find their way through it. Only here and there a 
glimmer fell upon the leaf-strewn earth, or now and 
then a breeze stirred the boughs aside, and gave Ja- 
son a glimpse of the sky, lest, in that deep obscurity, 
he might forget that there was one, overhead. At 
length, when they had gone farther and farther into 
the heart of the duskiness, Medea squeezed Jason’s 
hand. 

46 Look yonder,” she whispered. 44 Do you see it ? ” 

Gleaming among the venerable oaks, there was a 
radiance, not like the moonbeams, but rather resem¬ 
bling the golden glory of the setting sun. It pro¬ 
ceeded from an object, which appeared to be sus¬ 
pended at about a man’s height from the ground, a 
little farther within the wood. 

44 What is it ? ” asked Jason. 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 419 

“ Have you come so far to seek it,” exclaimed Me¬ 
dea, “and do you not recognize the meed of all your 
toils and perils, when it glitters before your eyes? It 
is the Golden Fleece.” 

Jason went onward a few steps farther, and then 
stopped to gaze. Oh, how beautiful it looked, shining 
with a marvellous light of its own, that inestimable 
prize, which so many heroes had longed to behold, but 
had perished in the quest of it, either by the perils 
of their voyage, or by the fiery breath of the brazen- 
lunged bulls. 

“ How gloriously it shines ! ” cried Jason, in a rap¬ 
ture. “ It has surely been dipped in the richest gold 
of sunset. Let me hasten onward, and take it to my 
bosom.” 

“ Stay,” said Medea, holding him back. “ Have 
you forgotten what guards it? ” 

To say the truth, in the joy of beholding the object 
of his desires, the terrible dragon had quite slipped 
out of Jason’s memory. Soon, however, something 
came to pass that reminded him what perils were still 
to be encountered. An antelope, that probably mis¬ 
took the yellow radiance for sunrise, came bounding 
fleetly through the grove. He was rushing straight 
towards the Golden Fleece, when suddenly there was 
a frightful hiss, and the immense head and half the 
scaly body of the dragon was thrust forth (for he was 
twisted round the trunk of the tree on which the fleece 
hung), and seizing the poor antelope, swallowed him 
with one snap of his jaws. 

After this feat, the dragon seemed sensible that 
some other living creature was within reach on which 
he felt inclined to finish his meal. In various direc¬ 
tions he kept poking his ugly snout among the trees, 


420 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 


stretching out his neck a terrible long way, now here, 
now there, and now close to the spot where Jason and 
the princess were hiding behind an oak. Upon my 
word, as the head came waving and undulating through 
the air, and reaching almost within arm’s-length of 
Prince Jason, it was a very hideous and uncomfortable 
sight. The gape of his enormous jaws was nearly as 
wide as the gateway of the king’s palace. 

“Well, Jason,” whispered Medea (for she was ill- 
natured, as all enchantresses are, and wanted to make 
the bold youth tremble), “ what do you think now of 
your prospect of winning the Golden Fleece ? ” 

Jason answered only by drawing his sword and 
making a step forward. 

“ Stay, foolish youth,” said Medea, grasping his 
arm. “ Do not you see you are lost, without me as 
your good angel ? In this gold box I have a magic 
potion, which will do the dragon’s business far more 
effectually than your sword.” 

The dragon had probably heard the voices ; for, 
swift as lightning, his black head and forked tongue 
came hissing among the trees again, darting full forty 
feet at a stretch. As it approached, Medea tossed the 
contents of the gold box right down the monster’s wide 
open throat. Immediately, with an outrageous hiss 
and a tremendous wriggle, — flinging his tail up to 
the tip-top of the tallest tree, and shattering all its 
branches as it crashed heavily down again, — the 
dragon fell at full length upon the ground, and lay 
quite motionless. 

“ It is only a sleeping potion,” said the enchau 
tress to Prince Jason. “One always finds a use for 
these mischievous creatures, sooner or later ; so I did 
not wish to kill him outright. Quick 1 Snatch the 


THE GOLDEN FLEECE 421 

prize, and let us begone. You have won the Golden 
Fleece.’* 

Jason caugbt the fleece from the tree, and hurried 
through the grove, the deep shadows of which were 
illuminated as he passed by the golden glory of the 
precious object that he bore along. A little way be¬ 
fore him, he beheld the old woman whom he had 
helped over the stream, with her peacock beside her. 
She clapped her hands for joy, and beckoning him to 
make haste, disappeared among the duskiness of the 
trees. Espying the two winged sons of the North 
Wind (who were disporting themselves in the moon¬ 
light, a few hundred feet aloft), Jason bade them tell 
the rest of the Argonauts to embark as speedily as 
possible. But Lynceus, with his sharp eyes, had al¬ 
ready caught a glimpse of him, bringing the Golden 
Fleece, although several stone-walls, a hill, and the 
black shadows of the grove of Mars intervened be¬ 
tween. By his advice, the heroes had seated them¬ 
selves on the benches of the galley, with their oars 
held perpendicularly, ready to let fall into the water. 

As Jason drew near, he heard the Talking Image 
calling to him with more than ordinary eagerness, in 
its grave, sweet voice : — 

“ Make haste, Prince Jason I For your life, make 
haste! ” 

With one bound he leaped aboard. At sight of the 
glorious radiance of the Golden Fleece, the nine-and- 
forty heroes gave a mighty shout, and Orpheus, strik 
ing his harp, sang a song of triumph, to the cadence 
of which the galley flew over the water, homeward 
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